


Beg to Differ

by Stellalana



Series: Insufferable [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: And Everyone is Still an Asshole, Angst, College, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Reader is Still a Memelord, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2018-10-29 12:03:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 100,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10853628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stellalana/pseuds/Stellalana
Summary: Somehow, growing up, you'd always imagined yourself settling down in a fairly ordinary life with a fairly ordinary job and fairly ordinary friends. But nothing was at all ordinary about Seto Kaiba or how he lived, and now that he was part of your life, you weren't sure you'd ever be able to stand ordinary again.





	1. Seniors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part of a series! The first story is named Pardon my French, and I highly suggest you go read that before starting this story! I mean you could maaaaybe get away with not reading it, but you'll be missing out on some nuances and references, plus people have told me the first story was pretty good, so I'd say go check it out!

You took a sip of the warm coffee in your hands, leaning your weight on your elbows as you propped yourself on the cold marble countertop of the island. Deciding it was too bitter for your liking, you set the mug down and scooped up another spoonful of sugar, dumping it unceremoniously into the milky brown pool below and giving it all a stir. Your phone buzzed beside you, a social media notification, and you chose to ignore it in favor of bringing the mug to your lips again for another taste. 

Much better you decided, taking another long sip and picking up your phone, scrolling through your contact list to find the little scamp you were waiting on. You tapped his photo, hit the call button, and held the phone up to your ear with one hand while you began to pour the rest of the contents of the coffee pot into a second mug. The ringing clicked, and you were greeted by a sleepy groan of a hello, which you promptly rolled your eyes at. 

“If you’re not down here in ten minutes I’m drinking all your coffee and sending you to school in pajamas.”

“I’m up, I’m up,” he managed to yawn out before the line went dead. 

You huffed, setting your phone back down and pushing yourself off the countertop to the fridge. You pulled out the sweetest flavored coffee creamer you could find, dulce de leche, and dumped more that you’d ever consider using for yourself into the mug before returning it to the shelf. If this didn’t perk the kid right up, you weren’t quite sure what would. 

The second you set the mug back onto the counter, as if on queue, Mokuba wandered into the kitchen, crust still in the corners of his eyes and hair a complete disaster. He had his shirt on the right way this morning, at least. He grabbed the mug and put it to his lips, gulping down at least a third of the contents before finally wiping the sleep from his eyes and blinking up at you. 

“Sleep well?” You chuckled, taking a sip of your own coffee. 

“Would have slept better if you didn’t wake me up so early,” he grumbled. 

“Early? If you don’t leave in the next twenty minutes you’ll be late for class.”

He shrugged. “It’s not like the teachers care if I’m late.”

“Mokuba,” you chided, “You know they care, they just don’t punish you because they’re all too terrified to call Seto.”

“That’s one perk of having the scariest man alive as your big brother,” he grinned, already waking up from the coffee in his system. He turned around and headed out of the kitchen, hopefully to finish getting ready for school so you didn’t have to drag him there yourself. 

You didn’t have classes on Wednesdays, so you had the day free to yourself. Unfortunately, since Seto had meetings every Wednesday morning at eight sharp with Yugi and the other lead developers of Rescue Party, he was already out of the mansion before you were even awake. That left you to make sure Mokuba actually left the house for school on time, mostly of your own volition, so you wouldn’t have the hear the two brothers argue about the importance of his education the moment Seto got home. 

On the bright side, the scamp only had three more months of high school before he could stop causing such a fuss about the whole ordeal and figure out what he wanted to do with his life. Whether that was continuing on with the whole vice-president of Kaiba Corporation thing or not you weren’t sure, and you didn’t think he was either. 

Mokuba came back down the stairs after a while, his hair styled and his grey-purple eyes much wider than before, perked up from the massive amount of coffee and sugar he’d just consumed. He brought the empty mug back to the kitchen and set it on the counter, slinging his school bag over his shoulder and grinning up at you. 

“What are you gonna do today?” He asked.

“Haven’t thought about it yet. Might just work on some sketches for my portfolio.” You replied as the two of you walked toward back door, where a driver had already pulled up Mokuba’s red BMW. He grabbed the keys off the rack and waved to you, pulling out his phone from his back pocket and bounding over to his car to lean against the hood and set to work framing the perfect selfie. You rolled your eyes as his obsession with Instagram fame and closed the door, finishing off your own mug of coffee before setting it in the sink and headed upstairs. 

_He left._ You sent to Seto, hopeful that your message of assurance would put him into a good mood since he had seemed so miffed that morning. You had been pretty tired and out of it, barely able to keep your eyes open when he rolled out of bed at six in the morning, but you distinctly remember him complaining about being out of hair product. 

You headed into the bedroom the two of you shared, where the king size bed had already been made by one of the maids and both your and your boyfriend's’ dirty clothes were absent from the floor. You passed the bed with its silky, pure white comforter and many different shapes of sky blue pillows, and headed into the bathroom. You pulled down your makeup bag from the well-organized metal lattice shelf and set it on your side of the double vanity before pulling out your brushes and getting to work on your makeup. 

Your phone buzzed beside you as you were putting blush on your cheeks, and you glanced over to see a _good_ from Seto pop up on the screen. It was already eight, which meant he was probably just heading into the weekly dev meeting. Rescue Party, the virtual reality party game he had been designing tirelessly with Yugi over the last two years, was finally in its last stages of development. Mostly they were doing some last-minute QA testing and bug fixes to prepare for the game’s debut at PAX in a couple months. They would be hosting demos all weekend on the newest model of Kaiba Corp.’s Souzouryoku, which you had taken to calling the “Hipster Souzou” since it looked like a pair of wide-framed square glasses. 

Needless to say, Seto did not appreciate the nickname, or the fact that you had spread said nickname all over Twitter and made it go viral. Though, you insisted it was a good advertisement tactic, and attributed the spike in interest in the Souzou overseas to your silly joke. It was probably giving yourself too much credit, but one could never underestimate the power of memes. 

You finished doing your makeup and returned your bag to the shelf behind you, knowing that your obsessive-compulsive boyfriend would throw a mini-fit if you left it laying around in his perfectly clean bathroom. You rinsed the foundation stain and various powders off the back of your hands and dried them on the perfectly pressed white washcloth monogrammed with your initials. Seto had had a bunch of towels and washcloths custom ordered for you shortly after you moved in, though you were pretty sure it was only so you would stop using his. You folded the washcloth neatly back up and placed it back on the counter before flicking the lights off and returning to the bedroom. 

You grabbed your sketchpad and pencils from the bedside table and stifled a yawn, deciding to take it all into your studio. You headed out of your shared space and down the hallway, first past the entrance to Mokuba’s wing of the mansion with his bedroom, bathroom, and gaming room, then past Seto’s home office and adjoining library, and toward the furthest wing that you had taken over. 

You opened the door to your studio, which had originally been a guest bedroom Seto had prepared for you when you first moved in, but didn’t last as sleeping chambers for very long. The first two nights after you’d moved into the Kaiba mansion, you had snuggled under the high-thread-count covers and hugged a pillow, unable to fall asleep. Despite the ridiculously comfortable mattress beneath you, you had tossed and turned both nights, thinking about the newfound socioeconomic implications of your new surroundings. You ended up taking a nap in class because of it, which Seto had lectured you on while the two of you sat in his office. You had been so exhausted that evening that you fell asleep with your head in his lap while he worked, and he had carried you to his bed, where you’d slept soundly through the night. 

In the end, it had been Seto who insisted you begin sleeping with him if it was the only way you would be able to get some rest. You were happy to oblige, and even happier to snuggle up to his shirtless body every night when he finally came to bed. Since then, the maids had converted the guest room into a studio for you, with an industrial sewing machine on one side of the room, a drawing table on the other, and two long tables in the middle for you to lay out fabrics and patterns. Along the walls were tall shelves filled with bolts of all kinds of fabrics, ribbons, threads, and finishings, less organized than they probably should have been since the maids didn’t tidy up in here very often. 

You brought your sketching materials to your drawing table, then walked over to your speaker system and plugged your phone into the dock. You searched through your music library, picking out the soundtrack to one of your favorite video games, then headed to the large windows on the side of the room. You pulled back the cream colored curtains and used the ties on either side to keep them open, washing the room is bright, dazzling light. Outside of the window was the back garden of the mansion, fresh snow sparkling beneath the sun, completely covering the green grass and rose bushes. Though you often criticized Seto's bland color pallets and lack of interior design skills, you couldn't do so when it came to the gardening. The unhealthy obsession with blue and white actually made for a beautiful, fresh looking landscape in the back yard, complimented by other plants and flowers the gardeners took creative liberties putting in. On top of the insanely over-the-top shrubbery he had cut and trimmed to look like Duel Monsters cards, you couldn't call the man bland when you looked over the outside of the mansion. 

After spending a few minutes to stare out over the slowly melting snow, you turned away from the windows and headed to your drawing table, sitting down in your comfy pink chair and pulling your colored pencil set from the shelf next to you. You began humming along to the soundtrack playing through the now very bright room, picked out a color pallet based on some fabrics you already had, and set to work sketching. With senior year in full swing, you really had to step up your designing game, and come up with something interesting to make for the fashion show at the end of the year. It had to be mind-blowing, well made, and more importantly marketable if you ever wanted to get a job in this city. Especially considering most of your work was very, very Western in design, and many of your peers and professors either really liked the fresh takes, or thought they looked strange and uncomfortable and would never sell. 

It wasn’t long before your cats found you, you’d been drawing for a few hours when Ciri hopped onto your table and began demanding attention. Dandelion was in your lap shortly after, and once you’d begun showing your fur babies love, you very quickly lock all motivation to keep designing. You leaned back in your comfy chair and bobbed your head to the music as you peppered your cats with chin scratches and gentle pokes on their squishy bits. Soon you realized the time was edging closer and closer to noon, which meant Natalia would be back from shopping soon and ready to cook lunch for you to bring to Seto at work. 

_What do you want for lunch?_ You sent him, hopping out of your chair and heading out of your studio and toward the stairs, Ciri on your heels since it was closing in on her feeding time. You hummed to yourself as you bounded down the imperial staircase, scrolling through reddit as you waited for his response. 

_Anything but Chinese._

You chuckled and headed into the kitchen, where Natalia was just getting inside and setting fresh groceries on the countertop. Her greying hair was tied back in a neat bun, the wrinkles around her bright green eyes scrunching and deepening as she smiled up at you. Natalia was a short, kind woman from Italy, and the personal chef to the Kaiba mansion. She made delicious pastries, much to your and Mokuba’s delight (and increasing weight) but her cooking really shone in her steaks, which was probably why she had been hired.

“What would the two of you like for lunch today?” Natalia asked you in English, since the two of you both prefered your native tongue. 

“Seto said anything but Chinese, so I’ll leave it to you,” you said warmly, curiously looking through the groceries she had brought back and taking stock. “Was the fish market having a sale again?”

“Oh, yes! They had some excellent cuts of salmon, and I know how much Master Kaiba likes salmon,” she replied with a grin before digging out some fresh fillets and veggies. She set to work making lunch for the two of you, and you pulled out one of the bar stools to sit down and watch. It was always interesting to watch Natalia work, she was so fast and efficient, and she always had this smile on her face while she cooked. 

There were a lot of people who worked at the Kaiba mansion, though other than Natalia, they all had set daily hours and didn’t sleep in the old servant’s quarters as they apparently had when Gozaburo was the head of the household. Seto only allowed Natalia to stay in the mansion because she insisted on always being around when food needed to be made, and she once had confided in you that she prefered living with the brothers than in her empty house after she divorced her husband. Besides the head maid Noel and both the gardeners, everyone else had been hired once Seto took over Kaiba Corporation. He was also very adamant they not be called ‘servants’, and though he never explicitly told you why, you and Mokuba both assumed he didn’t like the dehumanizing connotations it carried.

Mostly everyone who worked at the mansion was very friendly, all the maids who worked under Noel greeted you by name when you saw them and had genuine smiles on their faces. The gardeners who came every three days, Takeshi and Erica, were incredibly active and loved their jobs despite their aging bodies. They also liked Seto a lot more than Gozaburo, especially because he wanted huge, ridiculous greenery, like Blue Eyes White Dragon shrubbery. The various security guards who stood watch over the front gate to the mansion often remarked that since Seto started dating you, he had been in a remarkably better mood, and jokingly begged you to never leave the Kaiba mansion. 

Natalia was by far your favorite, though. Not just because of her amazing cooking and patisserie skills, but because she took a genuine interest in all your lives. Mokuba often complained about school to her while she made his dinner, and she sat with you sipping chamomile tea on occasions where you could not sleep and Seto was staying in his office overnight. You’d even caught Seto leaning against a wall or standing silently by the fridge in the ungodly hours of the night, taking a break from work and listening to her hum to herself while she made him coffee.

She finished packaging up your and Seto’s salmon lunch into expensive metal tupperware containers to keep the perfect temperature, and set them into a bag with utensils and napkins and a thermos full of her strongest coffee. She slipped in a bottle of Mexican Coca Cola for you, which Seto had discovered you had an unhealthy love for and began importing for you. Any time you complained about a snack or drink you had loved in the States that you could not get in Japan, he would import a massive amount of it to the Kaiba mansion. You had your own section of the large pantry overflowing with Haribo raspberries, Dublin cherry limeades, and sweet chili Doritos (because the American Doritos were better than the Japanese and you would insist such until the day you died).

“What would you like me to make for dessert tonight?” Natalia asked as you grabbed a coat from the rack by the back door and pulled it over your shoulders, then gingerly took the bag in one hand and grabbed your car keys with the other. 

“Whatever Mokuba wants, I picked last time.” You said, waving to her behind you and headed out the back door. Soft snow had begun falling outside in little flakes, not quite enough to stick to the ground, but they looked pretty. You made your way toward the large, detached garage of the Kaiba mansion, walking on the white stone pathway underneath an awning held up by pure white, Roman style pillars. Once you made it to the garage, you pushed open the large stained glass door and flicked on the lights, revealing the over ten different cars, each more expensive than the next. 

The garage was separated into three sections for all intents and purposes, there were Mokuba’s three sports cars, which you did not know the makes and models of and did not care. But they were all flashy colors, yellow, purple, and the red one he had taken to school that morning. Next to the empty space for his red car began the line of Seto’s cars, and you were positive he did not need as many as he had. Actually, you’d only ever seen him drive the Ferari and the BMW, so there was no reason for him to have five other, obviously very expensive sports cars. Especially since they were all either black or white, so to you they all looked pretty much the same. 

At the end of the garage was your car, a light blue Volkswagon Beetle. Seto had insisted on getting you a car about a week after you moved into the mansion, which you had denied for as long as possible until he dragged you out shopping one day. The two of you went to three different dealerships, each more expensive than the last, with you refusing to let him spend so much money on you. Finally he had told you if you didn’t pick out a car by the end of the day he was going to buy you a very loud, very expensive sportscar, and you had begrudgingly picked out a beetle from a photo you found online. You liked it because it was cute and small and didn’t cost three year’s rent at your old apartment. He hadn’t seemed very satisfied with your choice, but when it arrived in his driveway and you had gotten all excited and ran around it three times clapping and giggling, he let the whole ordeal end.

You hopped into your little car and set the bag on the passenger’s seat before strapping yourself in and hitting the garage door button. You backed out of the garage, then headed down the long driveway out of the Kaiba mansion, passing by the obnoxiously large Blue Eyes statues on either side. They were normally surrounded by pure white roses and blue hydrangeas, which you had learned quickly were Seto’s favorite flowers, but right now the flower bushes were all but completely covered in snow. When you reached the ornate iron gate, you waved to the two guards standing watch with a smile, rolling down your window to wish them both a good morning as one of them pressed the button to let you out. You headed out of the gate, down the rest of the driveway, and into the midst of thick Domino City traffic. 

You ate lunch with Seto every Wednesday in his office, since you had the day off of class and work. The tradition was becoming even more important to you now that he was getting busier and busier with work, and coming home in time for dinner less often. Though he was usually busy during lunch, and often the two of you sat together and ate while he worked on his computer, it was still nice to spend time with him. 

You pulled into the parking garage next to Kaiba Corp, which Seto also owned if the frankly adorable cartoon Blue Eyes in a hard hat was any indication. You parked in your boyfriend’s parking space since he had taken the limo to work that morning and grabbed the bag of warm food, locking the car before heading into the building. You waved your, now permanent, visitor’s pass at the security guard as you entered and quickly bounded toward one of the two elevators. Lots of people were getting off on the bottom floor, probably because it was lunch time, so you had to weave your way through the herd of bodies to get inside. 

You pulled out your phone as an excuse to not hold eye contact or conversation on the ride to the top floor, which was getting easier to avoid as the company got busier and busier. Many of the employees in the elevator were working on the ride, and paid you no mind. You reached the top floor and made a beeline to Aiko, who looked busy as ever with a thick stack of paperwork on her desk. 

“Woah, I do not envy you,” you said, pulling out a small container with a danish Natalia had made the day prior and setting it on her desk. 

“Mister Kaiba is in his office,” she said briskly, before glancing at the container, then you, and sighing. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.”

“I can imagine,” you said, brushing her off with a shrug. Aiko had always been all business and kind of cold, but you knew she didn’t mean any harm. You spun around and headed for Seto’s office, “Enjoy the danish!” 

“Sure, thanks,” she replied politely as you pushed open the large double doors to your boyfriend’s lair and closed them quietly behind you. He started yelling immediately, and you had to keep yourself from turning around and leaving as quickly as you came before you realized he was on the phone. The fact that he was speaking in Chinese probably should have given it away. 

You listened to him speak quickly and loudly to the poor soul on the other end of the line as you set the bag on his desk and gingerly cleared a space in front of him for his food and fresh coffee. You dragged one of the chairs next to you to the other side of his desk, pulling out your own food and unceremoniously plopping yourself down next to him. He all but ignored you, barely glancing at you as continued his very long rant, before finally slamming the phone down on the receiver to hand up. 

“Savage,” you said sardonically, opening the metal container and using your fork to shred off a piece of the tender salmon filet, steam still rising off it as you brought it to your mouth. 

“I didn’t expect you to get here so quickly,” he huffed, reaching for the warm thermos of fresh black coffee and taking a long chug.

“Nice to see you too darling,” you rolled your eyes and leaned against his arm, trying to taking small bites of your food like he had taught you was polite. “Who did you just get finished chewing out?”

“One of our distribution companies screwed up a rather large shipment order for the newest Souzouryoku models,” he replied sourly, opening the container with his own food and taking a forkful into his mouth, using his free hand to continue working on his computer. “I should have them all fired for mishandling those parts so close to a deadline this important.”

“I mean, you could.” You said, only half-joking as you popped open your Mexican Coke and took a long sip. When the two of you started dating, you used to be pretty good at talking Seto out of firing people for small mistakes. But now you found yourself growing incredibly jaded and unsympathetic to most of his employees, especially when they made a huge mistake like screwing up a big shipment, and especially when it caused you already overworked boyfriend to become even more swamped. 

“I could.” He agreed, taking another sip of his coffee and keeping his eyes locked on the screen. You weren’t quite sure if he was actually going to fire anyone that day, but you chose to push the idea from your mind as you ate a perfectly cooked mushroom. 

“So, you coming home for dinner tonight?”

“Not likely.” 

“Are you coming home at all tonight?” 

He merely hummed and took another bite of his own food. When he glanced down at you to see an unsatisfied pout strew across your face, he raised an eyebrow down at you barely smirked. “Why, do you miss me?” 

“Well duh,” you rolled your eyes and craned your neck against his arm to better look up at him. When would the man learn you were not at all embarrassed to admit things like loving and missing him? 

“I’ll probably be home late, don’t wait for me to go to bed,” he said coolly as he watched you take another sip of your soda. 

“But you’ll come to bed?” 

He sighed, “Yes, eventually. Now stop pestering me.” 

You grinned to yourself and finished off your lunch, placing it gently back into the bag and turning so you could rest your cheek against his arm. One of the perks of Seto being a slow eater while he worked was that you got to lay against him and watch him until he finished eating, which could take upwards of forty-five minutes if he got too distracted with coding. Though, right now it seemed like he was only handling reading and responding to emails while he sipped at his hot coffee and slowly ate his lunch. 

Still, you got to lean against him and breath in his musky body wash for another fifteen minutes before he finally finished eating and kicked you off of him so he could get back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S BACK  
> BACK AGAIN  
> THESE FUCKING ASSHOLES  
> TELL ALL YOUR FRIENDS
> 
> Posting the first chapter on Monday instead of Tuesday to break tradition. Also because I have a final exam tomorrow and I'm not about to do anything else that day.
> 
> I hope y'all like the time I've skipped to in this story. I probably could have continued Pardon my French for a long time to get to this point, but I think going ahead to a couple years into the relationship is more fun to write. Especially since I can explore some other sides to the characters and how the interact, what problems they have, etc. Plus with it being senior year for all the characters that means lots of business and stress and silly drama. 
> 
> As per usual, please gimme your kudos and comments! Now that we've started a new story you can give me alllll your kudos again muahahaha! But let me know if you enjoyed this chapter and all! Comments help keep me writing! :D


	2. The Home Office

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which nothing really happens it's just boring domestic life and an unhealthy amount of fluff

On the not-so-rare occasions when Seto came home from work before eight o’clock and had dinner with you, only to lock himself away to do more work in his home office, you would keep him company on the couch. He used to only work at his desk when he came home, sitting in his high-back leather chair with his laptop set up in front of him, but since you moved in he had migrated his workspace to the small, horribly tacky green couch on the other side of the room. 

Once, Mokuba had confided that the walls of the office had also been a similar green when Seto was still in high school, but he’d since had them painted to a less gaudy cream color. You’d find weird remnants of your boyfriend’s phase of an apparent obsession with the color green scattered throughout the mansion if you looked hard enough. One of the guest bathrooms on the third floor was a sea-foam color that reminded you of a house you grew up next to, and when you first moved in the rug in your temporary living space had been an equally obnoxious teal. 

The current state of Seto’s office wasn’t nearly as visually offensive as it apparently had been some six years ago, it was smaller than the office at Kaiba Corporation, decorated with a bookshelf along one wall and ficus trees in either corner of the room behind the desk. Outside of the window was a floating flower box filled with all different colors of hibiscus flowers, overlooking the front garden of the mansion which was still dusted with fresh snowfall.

You were mostly interested in the large, plasma screen television mounted to the wall opposite of the tawdry green couch, which was logged into your Netflix account and playing The Office. You’d seen every season at least three times, but Seto had not, so you sought fit to remedy the situation by playing through it when he worked from home til the late hours of the night. In the first few episodes he had complained that the show was “Tasteless, with unimaginative dialogue and a very American sense of low-brow humor.” Once you got about halfway through the second season though, he stopped complaining and silently allowed you to watch it with him, snuggled against his body while he wrote code or typed emails or whatever it was he did. Now, well into the fifth season, you caught him glancing up from his work every so often to spend a few minutes just watching the back-and-forth between the characters. Not that you’d ever tell him you noticed, you prefered keeping quiet about it so he felt safe taking little breaks and indulging in such “low-brow” humor. 

Sometimes, if Seto insisted he had a lot to focus on and couldn’t work with the distraction of a comedy show, you would put on Iron Chef America instead. How the man could work with an intense, hour-long battle between two insanely talented chefs going on in the backgrounds but not The Office you would never understand. But, right now was not one of those times, which was where you found yourself tonight, The Office playing on a low volume in the background as you leaned on your boyfriend’s shoulder, looking between the television and the code he was typing on his laptop. It was probably for Rescue Party, if the upcoming PAX date was any indication, and he was so far into the depths of the code that your limited knowledge of programming wasn’t near enough for you to understand all of it. 

He leaned forward, brushing you off his shoulder to reach for his coffee mug, bringing it to his lips and frowning. He pulled it away and looked into it before sighing, and you had to crane your neck up to look inside and see that it was empty. The way he was glaring at it seemed like he was trying to will more coffee into existence.

“You know, it’s nearly midnight, you should probably lay off the coffee.” 

“And why is that?” He glanced over to you. 

“You’ll never fall asleep if you’re pumped full of caffeine.”

“ _If_ I have time to sleep.”

“Oh quit it. You didn’t come to bed last night, you can’t pull two all nighters.”

“Why not?”

“Uh, I dunno, maybe because it’s bad for your health and well-being?” You rolled your eyes. 

“I’ll be fine.”

You sighed, pushing yourself off the couch and grabbing the mug from his hands so quickly he couldn’t properly react. You maneuvered yourself around the maple coffee table and hit pause on The Office before you made your way to the door.

“Well, in that case I guess I’ll go make us some coffee.”

“Us?” 

“Yeah, if you’re gonna stay up all night then I will, too. It’ll be like a sleepover… er, but without the sleep part.”

“You have math in the morning,” he shot you a hot glare from his position on the couch. 

“So do you, genius.”

“And, you have work afterwards. You cannot operate on no sleep.” he continued, his voice stern and unwavering. He was obviously getting annoyed as he realized where you were going with your little scheme. 

“Again, same boat.”

He lifted the laptop from his lap and set it on the coffee table before quickly crossing the room to stand in front of you, blocking the door with his body. He continued to glare at you, now towering over your small frame and doing his best to intimidate you into backing down. But, if he really thought those tactics would work, he clearly underestimated your stubbornness. 

“You are not staying up with me.” 

“You know, you sound oddly worried about me,” you sang. 

“Oddly? Why is it odd to worry about you? You certainly give me enough reason to.”

“Seto, how come you’re allowed to be worried about me but I can’t be worried about you?”

“There’s no reason for you to worry--”

“That’s a lie and you know it.” You asserted.

He opened his mouth to refute your claim, but stopped short and let his lips close slowly. You crossed your arms over your chest, still holding his empty coffee mug in your hand, and pursed your lips up at him. Daring him to try to argue. After an uncomfortable long staring contest you finally dropped your arms.

“How about I make you some tea instead? Then at least you’ll be able to fall asleep at some point.” You offered. 

He continued to glare at you.

“Please?” 

He sighed, shoulders dropping slightly as his features visibly softened. He closed his eyes and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, as he usually did when you’d annoyed him beyond belief. You might have felt bad for nagging him while he was so busy, but you were more concerned with his well-being than anything else. He hadn’t slept in nearly forty-eight hours, and if he kept going like this he was going to collapse. 

“Fine. Just let me get back to work,” he snapped, brushing past you and returning to the couch to pull his laptop to him. You bit back a satisfied grin and decided it would be best not to speak anymore, heading out of the office and past the wing that lead to the old servant’s quarters, where Natalia slept. You decided you didn’t need to wake her up for a simple mug of tea, you could manage just fine on your own. 

You made your way down the stairs and to the kitchen, washing the mug out with some hot water and setting it on the counter before filling up a kettle and setting it on the gas stove. You opened up one of the multiple pantries, the one filled with beverages and coffee beans and various loose-leaf teas, scanning the varieties with your eyes. Seto liked strong tea, unsurprisingly, without any milk or honey, but otherwise he never really specified what flavors he liked. He didn’t drink tea very much, but you’d made him all kinds of fruity, bitter, and spicy ones and he never complained nor looked particularly happy with any of them. 

You picked out a box of very cinnamon-y chai loose-leaf for him, and debated whether you wanted a mug of your own or not while you waited for the water to boil. If you had some tea, you’d probably have a really hard time getting to sleep, whereas Seto would be just fine considering his caffeine tolerance was inhumanly high. But you were starting to get tired, and if you didn’t have anything, you’d probably fall asleep in his office. Your pride was on the line here, not to mention if you did fall asleep there was no stopping him from staying up all night.

You pulled down a second mug from one of the shelves and resigned yourself to your fate, unwilling to let the man have his way and stay up all night working. Math was going to be a bitch in the morning, but you could probably nag Seto to stop at the campus coffee shop with you to keep yourself awake. They made really good Americanos, though Seto swore it was ‘only adequate’ coffee.

The kettle began to whistle, and you quickly moved it off the stove before it woke anyone in the house up, though that wasn’t likely considering how thick the walls of the mansion were. You poured the water into the two mugs with tea steepers and let the smell of spicy chai fill your nostrils with a content hum. After a moment of blissful, delicious-smelling silence, you picked them both up and made your way to the stairs. 

You slowly brought the mugs back up to the office, being careful not to spill the scalding liquid all over your arms, and set them on the coffee table. Seto looked like he was staring into a void, face completely lacking in emotion with his eyes locked on the screen and his fingers moving so quickly he reminded you of a robot. You took your place next to him on the couch, pressed play on Netflix, and chose not to interrupt his concentration. Every once in awhile he leaned over to take the tea you had made, but he didn’t comment on or react to the taste. 

Lack of sleep did one of two things to your boyfriend, either he became immensely irritable (more so than usual) and snapped at every little thing, or he turned into the most efficient machine you’d ever seen. Or both. You could easily understand the former, when you slept poorly it put you into a terrible mood too, but you just couldn’t fathom how he could work so well when he must have been exhausted. Perhaps it was just the caffeine working. 

“What is this?” He muttered annoyedly. 

“Chai tea.” You replied, keeping your eyes focused on the television. 

“Not you, moron.” He scoffed. 

“Oh. Of course, my mistake.” You said sarcastically and rolled your eyes.

“This entire section of code is a disaster,” he huffed, effectively ignoring you, “What idiot was responsible for this?” 

“Is this for Rescue Party?”

“No, it’s for another release,” he replied dismissively.

By this time, Seto had already finished his tea while you were only halfway done, and he used the caffeine high to re-write the supposedly awful section of code and write a very pissed-off email to the programming department. The _entire_ programming department. Boy were they in for a treat when they came to work in the morning. Once he was finished, he picked up the mug that you already knew was empty, and muttered a curse under his breath.

You glanced at the time to see it was nearly two, and you groaned into your hand. You really needed to go to sleep soon if you had any home of getting any rest, but you could feel the caffeine in your system and you’d probably be laying there for a good hour before you managed to fall asleep. 

“Seto,” you whined, letting your body fall against his shoulder.

“What?”

“It’s almost two.”

“Observant.” 

“We have to be awake in five hours to get ready for class.”

“Four and a half.”

“Setoooo,” you whined again, “I’m sleepy.”

“Then go to bed.” He sighed, quickly growing annoyed. 

“Come with me.” You pleaded, “You finished that code right? And you’re out of tea anyway.” 

“Do you know how much there is left to do?” He snapped, “I don’t have time--”

“Seto, please,” you interrupted, “I’m legitimately worried about you.”

He huffed and turned away from your gaze for a moment, glancing over his now empty email inbox and clicking his tongue in annoyance. You continued to stare patiently at him until he got fed-up with you, and he returned to glaring at you.“Why?” 

“Uh... because you just sent an email to the entire programming department threatening to fire them two weeks before PAX." You said, then when he didn't seem like the comment had any effect you added, "I haven’t seen you this stressed since E3 last year.”

“I haven’t been this stressed since E3.” He stated flatly.

“All the more reason for you to take a break. It’s only for a few hours, and you need to sleep.” 

He stared down at you coldly, biting at the inside of his cheek and tapping his thumb against the edge of the laptop. You could hear the television still going softly in the background, and you wanted to watch because you loved this episode, but if you backed down from the staring contest Seto would refuse to come to bed with you. Finally, he huffed and slammed his laptop shut, standing up quickly and setting it on the desk as he headed out of the office, arms crossed over his chest. 

_What a child_ you mused, pushing yourself off the couch and quickly following him toward your shared bedroom. He was already in the bathroom, stripping his shirt from his body and running hot water for a shower. You whistled playfully, prompting him to turn and face you, giving you a better view of his abs.

“Don’t flirt with me, I’m annoyed with you.” He chided. 

“Annoyed or not, you’re still hot,” you grinned, plucking your toothbrush from the holder on the countertop and squeezing some toothpaste onto it. He merely rolled his eyes and turned away from you again, undoing his KC belt buckle and peeling off the pants that were entirely too tight (not that you were complaining). 

“I can feel you staring at me.”

You spit out the toothpaste in your mouth before speaking, “Probably because I’m staring at you.”

“Are you getting in?” He asked pointedly, now completely nude and pulling open the glass shower door so he could step inside. 

“Oooh, is that a formal invitation?”

“No, I’d prefer if you just went to bed.”

You washed off your toothbrush and spit into the sink, before pulling your hair back with a clip and pulling your makeup remover and wipes from the shelf behind you. “You’re so unromantic,” you sighed, gently scrubbing the foundation from your face and throwing a glance to the shower, which wasn’t quite steamy enough to block his body from your view. You finished getting ready for bed quietly, washing your face off to the sound of high-pressure running water. 

You left a trail of clothing behind you as you made your way out of the bathroom and to the bed, tossing the extra pillows on the floor and crawling beneath the covers. You entertained yourself with Facebook until Seto finally shut off the water, before turning on the blowdryer. You yawned and kept yourself preoccupied with Dandelion, who had hopped onto the bed and plopped himself right on your chest, until eventually he finished drying his hair and exited the bathroom with a white towel tied around his waist. He headed to the dresser and pulled out a pair of boxer briefs, raising an eyebrow to you when he turned back to see you watching him. 

“You’ve seen me shirtless countless times and yet you still stare,” he muttered. 

“It’s not like you get any less sexy,” you shrugged, “Plus it’s not like you can talk, you do the same thing.”

He rolled his eyes and waited until you returned your attention to Dandelion before he replaced the towel with the pair of underwear, then set an alarm on his phone and plugged it into the charger on his bedside table. He turned off the lights and joined you under the covers, and Dandelion quickly moved off your chest to crawl over your boyfriend’s body and snuggle against him instead. Your cats had really taken a liking to Seto, they liked snuggling him more than snuggling you now, much to both your dismay. Eventually, though, he had given up on fighting them unless they were directly interfering with his work. After a moment, he turned his back on your cat in favor of draping an arm over your chest and pulling you closer to him. 

“So you’re not mad at me anymore?” You hummed teasingly. 

“Don’t make me push you off the bed,” he threatened.

You chuckled and adjusted your neck so it was in a more comfortable position, resting your head against his chest and yawning. You thought about thanking him for coming to bed with you, but decided it would probably just put him into a bad mood again, so you merely let your thoughts wander for a while until the caffeine in your system was overpowered by exhaustion and you fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well school's over and I passed all of my classes. One semester left and then I have a degree (and $80k of debt) wooooooah. I'd like to say I'm going to spend my entire summer sewing, but we all know I'll spend a good portion of it watching Youtube videos and doing absolutely nothing productive. So long as I actually get my Kaiba cosplay done for August, though, I'm gonna call summer a victory. ;)


	3. Memories

It was the third night in a row Seto would not be home to sleep in bed with you, and you were feeling pretty lonely. It wasn’t as if you didn’t understand, you did, with Rescue Party about to debut at PAX East he had been working non-stop doing final debugging, preparing the demo, and rehearsing for the performances he and Yugi would be alternating on. Still, it didn’t make the king-size bed any less big and any less empty. 

You finished brushing your teeth, plucked one of your boyfriend’s crisp white button-up shirts from the dirty clothes hamper, and buttoned it around yourself. It smelled like his body wash and general Seto-smell, and served as a reminder that he existed though you hadn’t seen him in near half a week. Next to the hamper sat your large stuffed bear with soft white fur, his smooth black button eyes staring emptily to the wall behind you. You gazed down at him for a minute, contemplating how much softer snuggling with him would be than just sleeping on your pillow, before grabbing him from the ground by the belly and hoisting him over your shoulder. You brought him over to the bed and plopped him down in Seto’s usual spot, tossing some of the unnecessary, decorative pillows onto the floor and freeing the covers from where the maids had tucked them in, before crawling beneath them. 

You sighed, pulling the bear towards you and snuggling your face into its neck. You realized you hadn’t yet turned off the lights, and rolled your face over so your voice wasn’t muffled against your bear’s fur. 

“Kisara, turn off the lights,” you mumbled.

“Yes ma’am.” The cold, mechanical voice replied as the lights in the room shut off around you. Kisara was the name of the mansion’s voice-recognition program, which controlled things like the lights in the house, music and television, even the temperature in each individual room. For all intents and purposes, she was basically a better version of Alexa, the Amazon Echo lady, though where Seto had come up with a name like Kisara you weren’t sure. 

You snuggled back into your bear and hummed, closing your eyes and willing yourself to think of something happy so you could stop feeling so lonely. The whole self-pity-party was neither attractive nor fun. You absently ran circles over some tufts of the bear’s fur and remembered how you had gotten him in the first place, over a year ago when you were still living in your Western-style apartment in the heart of Domino City. 

Seto had shown up to your apartment at seven sharp, dresses in a pressed black suit with a white tie. Like he had the first time he knocked on your door in a suit, he offered you his arm wordlessly, and you took it. You noticed the cufflinks you had given to him the week prior on his sleeves, and you smiled down at them as you locked your door behind you. 

The cufflinks were plated silver, engraved with his initials, and set with small sapphires that matched his eyes. They had not been overly expensive, especially when compared with the custom-tailored William Fioravanti suit he was wearing which cost easily twenty-thousand dollars, but you had still saved up two months worth of paychecks for them. Actually, the only reason you had been able to afford them was because they were on sale, but you were choosing to omit that part.

You had been debating getting your boyfriend anything at all for Valentine’s Day, you hadn’t gotten him anything the year prior, mostly because you didn’t have a job at the time and couldn’t think of anything to buy him he couldn’t just buy himself. But this year you had really wanted to show how much you loved him, even if it was just with some silly cufflinks. Especially since he had insisted you didn’t get him anything for Christmas then proceeded to up and give you a brand new gaming laptop. You kind of felt the need to pay him back, though you knew the whole notion was silly considering how much money he had to just throw away, but you figured cufflinks were as practical a gift as they were pretty. You were just glad he was using them. 

It was the first time he had taken you out for dinner out of the blue like this since you’d begun dating, and you were both excited and a little confused. As he lead you down the stairs and out of the building to the limo parked on the curb, you spent the entire time staring up at him. He was very pointedly staring straight ahead, though you knew he saw you looking at him. The two of you entered the limousine wordlessly, thought a grin was growing on your face and a frown on his when you continued holding his arm. 

“What?” He finally sighed. 

“You look spiffy,” you merely teased, though you had to do it in English because ‘spiffy’ just didn’t have the same kind of Japanese translation. 

“That’s it? That’s why you’re grinning at me like a moron?” He responded, also in English, raising an eyebrow. You loved the fact that your boyfriend spoke perfect English, he had no trouble switching back and forth in a conversation-- honestly he was better at it than you were.

“What, a girl can’t grin at her spiffy-looking boyfriend?” 

“Stop saying spiffy.”

“What for? It’s a compliment! You know, Seto, I think we’re probably the spiffiest people out on the town tonight.”

He sighed again and rubbed at his forehead with his free hand, the one you weren’t holding onto and leaning against. “I already regret bringing you out.” 

You gazed out the limousine window and watched the city pass by slowly in the busy Domino City traffic, bright neon signs of a rainbow of colors setting the streets alight. The city was already bustling with nightlife, some of the clubs with earlier hours already had lines out front and the handful of bars you passed were filling quickly to celebrate the end of the workweek. You were now fully adjusted to living in the heart of the city, and the overflowing streets and carefree atmosphere now felt like home to you.

“What are you looking at?” Seto hummed.

“Just the city,” you replied, “It’s so pretty at night, don’t you think?” 

“Why do you say that?”

You shrugged, “It’s just so bright and colorful.”

“You love color a little too much, if you ask me.” 

You turned to look at him out of the corner of your eye and grinned. 

Shortly thereafter, the limousine pulled up in front of a fancy looking sushi restaurant, and outside the window you could already see a small group of press who had noticed your arrival. They were probably trying to get photos of someone else already in the restaurant, but knowing how much the media loved covering Seto Kaiba, especially lately, they’d probably be ready any moment to snap some candids. 

“Wonderful,” he huffed dramatically, “Try to keep your mouth shut this time.”

“Aw, it’s so fun to mess with them though,” you hummed. 

He pointedly ignored you and squeezed your hand firmly as he about dragged out out of the limousine, his long strides carrying him quickly and elegantly toward the door to the restaurant while you had to almost jog to keep up with him. You focused on the feeling of his hand and restrained yourself from looking in the direction of the sudden shouting and camera flashes beside you. 

Since the press had realized you and Seto were romantically involved, they’d been having a field day trying to get information and photos of you. They were especially ravenous for material since discovering you were an American, apparently foreign love affairs were a huge deal in Japan, especially since it was a foreign love affair between the richest man in the country and a no-name university student who was wasting her talents on something as frivolous as fashion design. 

The media wasn’t really sure what they thought about you, some days they praised your “Western fashion-sense” or how they thought you were “funny and down-to earth”, but other days they wouldn’t shut up about how you were rude and sarcastic, just like every other American. Truthfully you weren’t really sure how to balance being funny without relying of sarcasm, so you ended up floating in limbo, unsure where you stood in the eyes of the Japanese press. You’d decided somewhere along the line that you would rather be yourself and not worry about what other people thought of your relationship with Seto, and so long as you weren’t doing anything to impact him negatively he seemed to have the same thought. 

The two of you sat down at the classy looking sushi bar, away from the windows in the front of the restaurant where the curtains had been drawn to keep the press out. Two seats down from Seto, you noticed a beautiful woman with long, perfectly straight hair and flawless makeup whom you thought you recognized from somewhere. After-- probably impolitely-- staring at her for a while, you decide you’d probably seen her on television at some point, and she was likely the reason for the paparazzi outside. 

Seto was still holding onto your hand, and you couldn’t tell if he was conscious of it or he had just forgotten to let go after dragging you out of the limo, but he was drawing little circles on your wrist with his thumb while he looked through a menu. When one of the waitresses came, he ordered your favorite drink without even batting an eye, and began listing off sushi orders to the chef behind the bar. You ordered a maki roll for yourself and watched his thumb move absently, the silver plated cufflink on his suit jacket sparkling in the dim light of the restaurant. 

“This is oddly romantic of you,” you mused as a cocktail was set in front of you.

“Don’t call me romantic.” 

He finally let go of your hand when a plate of nigiri was handed to him over the counter,and he set it in front of himself but made no move to begin eating until you had your sushi as well. The two of you ate quietly, Seto because he had nothing to talk about unless you specifically asked him anything and you because you were perfectly content sitting next to him and letting him relax after the busy workday. Eventually, the pretty woman you’d seen on television left the bar with the man she had been eating with, and you could hear the loud shouts and camera shutters the moment the doors opened.

“Vultures,” Seto mutter under his breath.

“They’re just doing their job.” 

“Their job is annoying, disruptive, and useless.”

“Wow,” you chuckled between sips of your drink, “You really hate the media, huh?”

“I’ve hated them since I was a child, and I hate them even more now,” he replied icily as the front doors shut and the sounds disappeared, leaving the restaurant completely silent other than the chefs working over the bar. Seto’s tone was not his usual, measured grumbling he used when he was complaining about idiots at work or general day-to-day annoyances, he sounded seriously upset. 

You stayed quiet and thought about his words, mulling over them while he payed the bill and let you finish your drink before leading you out of the restaurant. The press outside had vanished, probably to stalk the pretty woman you’d seen on television, but he still held you close and walked to the limousine quickly, practically tossing you into the back seat with a huff. 

He was squeezing your hand again, so you had to wiggle it a little bit so his grip loosened, but you kept your fingers wrapped around his the entire limo ride back. He was acting a little intense, even for Seto-standards, and you couldn’t help but think he was trying to rush you back home for some reason. You hoped you hadn’t done something to upset him. 

“So, are you going to tell me now what the occasion for our date was?” You asked as you pulled up in front of your apartment building. Seto tugged you out of the car and lead you briskly up the stairs, again forcing you to move quickly to keep up with his long strides. 

“No occasion.”

“Quit walking so fast,” you whined, “You never take me out unless there’s an occasion.”

He stopped rigidly at your door and tapped his foot impatiently as you keyed in your passcode, his hand still gripping your other wrist. You tried not to make it obvious that you’d noticed how wound-up he was, because he hated it when you acted like he was an open book, but man oh man was he making it easy to read him. 

You turned the doorknob and pushed open the door as Seto let go of your wrist, and you slipped off your heels and tossed them lazily into the corner by the door before stretching your shoulders back and heading into the living room. You spotted a suspicious, giant white lump on your couch that had not been there before, and as you realized it was a stuffed animal you had to keep from sounding too lovey-dovey or he’d make fun of you. 

“You know you’re a week late for Valentine’s Day,” you laughed, dropping your purse on the coffee table and sauntering over to the large stuffed bear. 

It had to have been at least four feet tall, with pure white fur, shiny black eyes, and a blue silk ribbon wrapped around its neck and tied in a bow. You sat down next to it, running your hands along its fur for a moment before grinning and leaning against it, letting your shoulder sink into its fluffy stomach. 

“As if I need a ridiculous holiday to show that I care about you,” he said dismissively, before his eyes briefly widened as he realized what he had said. 

“Aw, you care about me?” You teased. 

He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned, which only made you grin even more.

“Come here,” you waved him over to the couch and patted the spot next to you until he sighed and begrudgingly made his way to you, sitting close so his leg rested against yours. You pushed yourself off the bear’s stomach to instead lean your head against Seto’s shoulder, wrapping your arms around his and nuzzling your cheek against him gently so you didn’t transfer any makeup to his expensive suit. 

“It’s really cute, thank you,” you said happily, moving one of your hands down and lacing your fingers with his own.

He hummed, as he usually did to avoid saying ‘you’re welcome,’ before glancing down at you with a raised eyebrow. “So then, you like it.”

“Of course I like it,” you laughed, before using your free hand to reach up and boop him lightly on the nose with your pointer finger, “Though not quite as much as I like you.”

“Quit flirting with me,” he groaned and rolled his eyes.

“But I’m so good at it!” You returned your arm to wrapping around his, continuing to grin up at him, “Anyway, how did you get this thing in here?”

“I had Isono bring it while we were at dinner,” he said, as if it should have been obvious. Well, it probably should have been. You had given Seto the combination to your passcode lock just after the semester had started, you said it was like giving him the key to your apartment, and he had made fun of you for being needlessly romantic again. 

This was the first time he’d made any use of the combination though, the times the two of you had done anything together over the year you’d been dating, it was usually either in his office or getting coffee together before class. Any time he came over to your apartment, it was usually because you suggested it, so he didn’t need to let himself in. Not that you were complaining, giving him the combo was more of a gesture than anything else. 

“What should I name him?” You hummed aloud. 

“The bear?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s an inanimate object, why does it need a name?” 

You loved it when Seto tried to act older than he actually was, tried to act like the mature thing to do was always more important than the fun or sentimental thing. You especially loved it when he sounded like he was chiding you for acting childish, and you knew exactly how to punish him for it. 

“Oh? In that case, how come you gave a name to the Blue Eyes statue outside of Kaiba Land--”

“Shut up,” he said sharply. 

You muffled a giggle into his arm, before turning your head to look at the large stuffed bear next to you, staring into his black button-eyes and dangling one of your feet side-to-side over the edge of the couch. You were surprised Seto hadn’t pulled his phone out yet to check his emails, he hadn’t done so all night, even on the limo ride to the restaurant.

“Oooh, how about Oswald?”

“Oswald?” 

“Well he looks like an Oswald, doesn’t he?” 

“Call it--”

“Him,” you corrected.

“--whatever you want.”

“Then I’ll call him Oswald!” You declared triumphantly. 

The two of you had snuggled together on the couch in content silence for a while, until at some point you had fallen asleep and Seto had carried you into your bedroom. He had also carried the stuffed bear in so you would not wake up alone in your empty apartment. You had never told him that you had been playing possum when he draped one of your arms over the bear, or when he kissed you on the forehead and whispered a ‘good night’ into your ear before letting himself out. 

You replayed that memory over and over again until you fell asleep in the empty king-size bed nuzzled against Oswald.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two days til I leave for my aunt's wedding. It's a 16 hour drive over two days, so my goal is to spend most of it hand sewing my last two swimsuits for Colossalcon and the rest of it writing this fic. And after the wedding I board a plane for Ohio for swimsuit con! I usually call it vacation con because I just chill out the entire time, but this year I have seven different costumes and I'm entering Ciri in the cosplay contest soooooo no chill for me. On the bright side, all my costumes are super comfortable! :3
> 
> I hope you guys are having a good week! Are any of you coming to Colossalcon? If so I'll see you there!


	4. The Penny Arcade Expo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between Pardon my French and Beg to Differ, I've officially reached over 100k words :D

The flight to Boston had been mostly uneventful, sans Mokuba asking you about fifty questions about the city despite the fact that he had been there once before. He asked everything under the sun, like if you’d been there (yes, you had), what your favorite place was (the Common), what food he should try (fried clams and lobster rolls), and why everyone shortened the names of cities when they pronounced them (that one you weren’t too sure about). He also asked if anyone you knew would be at the convention, which you were delighted to say yes to. Corey would be working on the show floor along with quite a few other Kaiba Corp. America employees, and some of the graduates from your previous university were debuting the beta to an indie platformer they’d been working on for the last two years. 

The convention center was much more interesting than the plane ride, bustling with developers and employees from all number of game companies frantically setting up stages and computers and VR stations in preparation for the opening of the con. Seto led the two of you through the mostly empty show floor toward the middle of the vast space, where the Kaiba Corporation booth was already mostly constructed. Of course, it was one of the biggest booths in the convention, likely the largest space he could have rented, boasting a large stage on one end with an enormous screen above it to broadcast duels and presentations to the entire show floor. Below the stage was a few rows of blindingly chromatic silver chairs, and behind them stood stations to play the three newest Kaiba Corp. game demos. 

One of the games, an ARG mobile game called Duel Links, was already released to the public, while a second game for all variety of platforms was slated to release next month. The largest draw was probably going to be Rescue Party, though, if the massive station of Souzouryokus was any indication. Not to mention, it had Yugi Mutou’s name on it, which was already a huge selling point. 

Two employees were already putting down bright blue tape around the carpeted area that marked the high-tech Kaiba Corporation booth, which you gathered were to mark where people could wait in line to demo each game. Between the stage, the demo stations, and the very plush carpet, you thought the booth was amazing, obviously the most advanced and expensive you saw in the entirety of the expo hall. 

Seto very curtly explained that he had a lot of work to do to prepare for the opening of the convention center in the next two hours, and sent you on your way to explore the other booths while you waited. Mokuba opted to stay with his brother and help with set-up since he had been to many a PAX in his lifetime and had seen about all there was to see until the games were live.

You preoccupied yourself with exploring your surroundings and scouting out all the booths with games you wanted to play. When you found yourself in the heart of the Indie Megabooth, you found some of your old acquaintances from school setting up their own little booth with squishy bean bag chairs, flat screen televisions, and controllers with custom skins made just for their game. They hadn’t begun hooking up anything yet, but you knew they were going to be demoing their new game, a platformer they had been working on, which had just released last weekend. After exchanging cheerful greetings and congratulations, you somehow ended up getting roped into helping them set up their area, organizing the cute beanbag chairs and the little signs and business cards so they were easily seen. 

Afterward, you continued on your exploration of the convention center. There were a ton of games you really wanted to play over the course of the next three days, and you mapped out the best route to play as many as possible before you had to leave. Seto texted you to inform you that you had free reign to do whatever you wanted today, and suggested you get in line at one of the bigger booths before the doors opened to the public, so you did as he said and booked it across the hall toward the Blizzard booth. By the time you made your way through the entire expo hall, the doors had opened and all the devs were finished setting up, which meant it was time to get to work.

 

  
At about one Mokuba found you while you were waiting in line for a panel on story and character development in game design. You were toward the front of the line, which was sectioned off in a waiting room while the panel room was being cleared of its current occupants, and you had pulled out Duel Links to play against the people around you. You’d gotten a lot better at Duel Monsters in the past couple years, although you still weren’t all that great and you liked to use silly gimmick decks rather than competitive ones. When you were compared to either of the Kaiba brothers, especially Seto, you were pretty awful all things considered, but against your average con-goer you were holding your own with a seventy-percent win rate. Plus, you’d gotten three people to download the app so far, which would (hopefully) make your boyfriend a happy camper. 

Mokuba somehow managed to weasel his way to the front of the line, using his charm and flashing the devilishly handsome grin of his to the girl just behind you. He peered over your shoulder to watch you finish up your duel and placed his hand on your shoulder in congratulations at your victory. Man, when had he gotten so much taller than you? 

“You know, Nii-sama would throw a fit if he saw you were using a spellcaster deck,” he chuckled. 

“Why do you think I’ve never told him?” You replied with a smirk, “What are you doing here?”

“I got tired of working so I’m taking a break, mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

Shortly after he cut the entire line to join you, the PAX enforcers began ushering you into the panel room, a long stage with a table and microphones in front of row upon row of chairs. The two of you took your seats in the front and he immediately whipped out his phone for a selfie. You rolled your eyes and bit back a chuckle, the boy couldn’t go more than an hour without documenting his life (and sharing it with the hundreds of thousands of people who followed him on Instagram). 

“So what’s this panel about anyway?” 

“You cut in line for a panel you didn’t even read about?” 

“I read the name of it,” he held his hands up defensively.

You shook your head at him and directed your gaze past his head, toward the people who were steadily filling up the rows of seats behind you. There weren’t quite as many people in attendance as you expected there to be, but you supposed it was because one of the big YouTubers was doing a panel at the same time. You shrugged and turned to face forward, hoping the panel would be informative and interesting considering it was some of the CD Projekt devs. Or, at the very least, a good time waster. Mokuba seemed like he was just hoping for the later. 

You were fully aware that Mokuba was less excited for the convention itself and more for what was to come afterward. Whilst he and Seto were discussing their plans for the trip, the younger began insisting the three of you extend your stay in America for a day or two to meet your parents. He figured that since you were all going to be in the states anyway, it was the perfect time to say hello. At first, Seto was vehemently against the idea, stating flatly that he had entirely too much work to do to stay an extra day in America. But after seeing how crestfallen you had been when your excitement to see your family again after nearly three years had been dashed, he quickly found the time to pencil them into his schedule. 

Which meant the Kaibas would be exchanging pleasantries with your parents in three days, and hopefully both parties would approve of each other. You were really excited for your family to meet Seto, they had been asking to schedule dinner or a holiday to all get together for the past couple years, but between your boyfriend’s enormously busy schedule and their inability to make a flight to Japan, it just hadn’t worked out. You were fairly certain they would like him, what wasn’t to like? He was smart, handsome, funny, he had amazing table manners and could hold a conversation on all number of subjects. 

You were more concerned with him liking your parents, honestly. You loved them dearly, and thought so highly of them that you believed no better parents existed in the world, but Seto could hardly tolerate you for an extended period of time so you were curious if he could stand all three of you. You got your snarkiness and complete disregard for authority from your mother, plus your inappropriate humor and affinity for bullshit from your father, and although you knew you were worlds worse than either of them, you were still concerned with just how much crazy American sarcasm he could sit through. 

Mokuba, on the other hand, you had no worries about. He had been bounding up and down with excitement for the past week, asking questions about what kinds of food your mom would cook them and what they both did for a living. He latched onto the idea of getting them some sort of present, and despite his insistence on blowing a few thousand dollars on something ridiculously unnecessary for their home, you somehow convinced him to get a pretty spice rack that matched the backsplash of the kitchen. 

Between the CD Projekt panel, the myriad of games you played, and your anxious thoughts about your boyfriend liking your parents, the first day of PAX went by quickly. When six rolled around and everyone but the game developers and employees remained in the expo hall, you and Mokuba returned to the Kaiba Corp. booth to find Seto and drag him out for dinner. Instead, he informed you that you’d be joining him for one of the many after parties in the city. 

The younger Kaiba decided there was no point in attending a party where he could not drink and instead decided to get in touch with a girl he had snagged the number of while he was running around the expo hall. Seto was immediately put out, a careful frown etched onto his face as he watched his little brother text a mystery girl he would likely never see again. He was obviously holding back saying anything, though, and you knew it was because the two had been fighting recently about how Mokuba thought the elder didn’t trust him. 

It had been really hard for Seto this past year, trying to balance his very controlling nature with Mokuba’s increasingly growing independence. He had always been a firm parental role, strict in some aspects which he thought were the most important for his health, intelligence, and safety. He was comfortable allowing the younger to choose his friends and hobbies, not wanting to be too demanding or overbearing like Gozaburo had been, but when it came to any sort of relationship he was immediately suspicious of everyone. He had a background check run on any girl that came remotely close to Mokuba, going over every aspect of their academic and personal choices, along with their family background. 

Within the last two months, it had caused a huge argument between the two, you had been in the living room working on a research paper at the time when they started raising their voices, Seto straining to keep himself sounding calm against his wild younger brother. 

“You seriously ran a background check on her?” Mokuba had said, standing in front of the chair he had jumped out of when the argument began. 

“It is important I know she won’t be a danger to you.” Seto said coolly, setting his phone on the arm of the chair to give the younger his full attention. 

“A danger? She’s seventeen, what possible danger could she be?”

“That’s what I had to confirm.”

“Okay, and?” He huffed. 

“Academically, she leaves a lot to be desired,” Seto began, folding his hands together and leaning forward just barely so that his weight shifted the couch the two of you sat upon. “She’s not in any clubs, and she’s already been in trouble with the school once for underage drinking.”

“But she’s not a danger.” Mokuba said flatly. 

“Between the fact that she’s an idiot and getting caught for drinking--”

Mokuba interrupted him by calling your name, and you glanced between the two of them but tried to look like you were focused on your paper despite the fact that they were distracting you more than you could manage to push past. You hoped if you said nothing he would keep you out of the entire discussion, but that was asking a little too much. 

“You drank when you weren’t legal right? It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Okay, that was in college, not high school,” you sighed, “And I didn’t get caught.”

“But--”

“Not to mention underage drinking culture in America is vastly different than in Japan so you can’t really compare the two.”

Seto sighed beside you, which you took to mean he did not wholly approve of your reply to Mokuba’s inclusion of you in the family matter. You knew he would have preferred you put your foot down and denounce any and all illicit activities, but you had to be honest with the younger Kaiba or it would just cause more problems later on. Not to mention, Japan on a whole was way less strict on underage drinking so you weren't entirely sure why Seto was making a big deal out of it. Actually, the first time you'd gone to lunch with Seto he was nineteen and he drank a glass of wine, so he wasn't really one to talk. The Kaiba mansion was even fully stocked will all manner of alcohol, which Mokuba was free to drink on occasion so long as it wasn't any of the hard stuff, so you didn't think it was the _drinking_ that was actually the problem.

Normally, you liked to stay out of their arguments, especially when it was very clearly a ‘father-son’ type that you felt you should not be involved in. Mokuba, however, liked to drag you into them on more occasions than you were comfortable with. He had started treating you like some weird mix between an elder sister and a mother since you moved in, which you weren’t personally opposed to until he somehow stuck you in the middle of his arguments with Seto. He much preferred your more hands-off approach to ‘parenting’ if you could even call it that, you were of the opinion that the more he was told he couldn’t do something, the more he’d want to do it. 

Obviously, the kid needed ground rules, his midnight curfew was reasonable enough and you would not stand for him doing and hard drugs, but you were mostly concerned with him feeling comfortable to talk to you about anything and asking for help whenever he needed it. Unfortunately, that meant he sometimes preferred to come to you with problems, especially when it came to sex and girls and alcohol, in the confidence that you would not discuss it with Seto. Your boyfriend knew this and insisted he’d rather the younger have full trust in you, so he agreed not to ask about it so long as you promised to tell him if you thought he was in actual danger. But you knew it ate away at him, the fact that he believed he couldn’t be enough for Mokuba, whom he’d sworn to raise fully and wholly since they were children.

“That doesn’t mean she’s a bad person, and she’s not an idiot.” Mokuba started again, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Well then at the very least she’s lazy.” 

Mokuba gestured toward you and raised an eyebrow to his brother. You weren’t quite sure if you should have been insulted that he was calling you lazy (which was true) or impressed by his ruthlessness of using you against his own brother. You decided upon the later, shrugging your shoulders in a non-committal conceding of his point.

“She’s trouble.” Seto said decisively. 

“Geeze, Nii-sama, it’s not like I’m gonna marry the girl.” 

He furrowed his brows and just stared at his little brother for a long time, before letting out a long, frustrated sigh. “So this is just sex, then?” 

“I mean,” he chewed at his lip for a moment as if weighing how much information he was comfortable giving away, “Mostly, I guess.”

“Mostly? Why is sex so--”

“Nii-sama you just don’t get it!” He huffed, blowing a lock of hair out of his face and rolling his eyes.

“No, I don’t get it.” He glanced over to you, his look debating whether he wanted you to weigh in on this discussion or not. Mokuba also turned his attention to you, as if they’d both conceded you were somehow the tie breaker in this conversation you did not belong in. 

You merely shrugged and looked up from your laptop screen, “As long as both parties are consenting and using protection, it’s none of my business what he sticks his dick in.” 

Seto continued to stare at you, as if your answer was unsatisfactory or he was expecting more from you. Mokuba chose to stay silent while his brother’s frustration was directed to you instead of him. You tapped lightly on the keys of your laptop absently and really, really wished you were not in the middle of this argument. 

“Look,” you finally sighed, “I recognize that sex has different meanings for different people and I’m not going to push my beliefs onto anyone. As long as Mokuba’s happy,” you glanced up at the younger sternly, “and safe, that’s all I care about.”

“See?” Mokuba nodded.

“But I’m not your guardian, so ultimately my opinion doesn’t matter.” You said, “Seto’s in charge here and you need to respect that.”

“Even if he’s doing background checks on my classmates?” 

You sighed and chose to say nothing. As an American, you were fairly openly against any infringements on your privacy and opposed to people in power surveying you without your knowledge and permission. But you were in Japan, and you were living under Seto’s roof, and so long as he wasn’t doing something extreme like bugging your rooms or monitoring your search histories or paying strange men to tail you, you didn’t want to involve yourself in the matter any further.

“This is ridiculous. I can make my own choices on who to date.” Mokuba asserted. 

“Mokuba, I just--”

“You don’t trust me.” 

Seto paused and just stared at his brother, lacing his fingers tighter together in an effort to keep his emotions in check. His face quickly assumed a calm, emotionless mask that you knew all too well. You frowned as you watched him deliberate in his head on what to say to the younger Kaiba, of course he trusted his brother, he just wanted to do everything in his power to keep the boy safe. And he had a lot of power, so he wanted to use every last bit of it so that nothing bad could ever, ever happen to him again.

“Mokuba, you know he trusts you,” you said calmly.

“Then why--”

“Because he loves you, idiot.” 

Mokuba just frowned at you for a long time while Seto sat in calm silence.

“That’s not a good enough reason for him to act like I can’t take care of myself at all.” He finally said softly. He was much less assertive now than he had been a moment ago, but he still wouldn’t back down. You let out a deep breath from your nose and glanced down at your laptop again, unsure of what to say and quite uncomfortable being in the middle of the debate. 

“You’re right.” Seto muttered beside you. 

Well hot damn, was it a blue moon tonight? Did the planets align at just this moment? Was Mercury in retrograde? For Seto Kaiba to admit that someone else was right was a monumental task, and you were quite certain it would be months upon months before you saw it happen again. 

“I need to be less… overbearing.”

For the rest of the evening the three of you sat in a somewhat uncomfortable, somewhat dumbfounded silence. You returned to writing your essay, Mokuba turned on some reality game show, and Seto stared out the big window to the front yard while running his thumb in circles on your arm as he usually did when he was thinking. 

Since then, Seto had been true to his word, doing his utmost to be less suffocating of his younger brother. Which meant being way, way more conscious of the things he said and did when it came to Mokuba and girls. You could see the worry painted all over his tired face as he watch his brother type away on his phone, making plans of some description that would probably involve some extent of Netflix and Chill. You squeezed Seto’s hand reassuringly as Mokuba waved his good-byes and began bounding off in the opposite direction. 

“Call if you need anything. And make good choices!” You called in the sweetest voice you could muster, which had quickly become much more authoritative to the younger Kaiba than your stern tone. Mokuba knew that if he really fucked up, especially after your sickeningly sweet kindness, there would be some hell to pay.

Seto signed beside you and brought a hand to the bridge of his nose, “This was all so much easier when he was twelve.”

“He’ll be fine,” you said flippantly, as the two of you began to head off toward one of the other exits, onward to the busy streets of Boston and the many PAX parties that inhabited them.

“I just hope he gets over this obsession with sex eventually and start worrying about his future.”

“You never know,” you hummed, “I mean, the concept of modern dating is totally lost on me, but he could find someone he really likes on Tinder or something.”

Seto scoffed at the notion.

“Eventually he’ll find someone, relax honey. He’s a smart kid, you know that.” 

“Not as smart as me.” 

You snorted a laugh, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m a genius and I ended up with a mess like you,” he deadpanned, “Just think what will happen to him.”

You tried your best to look offended, you really did, but you were too busy laughing into the palm of your hand at his terribly insulting, yet completely accurate quip. You caught the faintest of smirks tug at the corners of his lips in response to your fit of giggles, and he finally squeezed your hand back while he led you toward one of the hotels near the convention center. The two of you headed through the lobby and toward the somewhat crowded elevators that would take you to the upper floor with the conference rooms where the party was being held. 

Weaving through cosplayers, streamers, and game developers alike, Seto quickly came to the huge double doors that marked the entrance to the party, dragging you behind him as you struggled to keep up with his pace and long strides. You really wished he would learn how to walk at a normal pace so you wouldn’t have to jog in heels whenever you were with him. The two of you waved your exhibitor passes at the man at the door and he waved you in with barely a passing glance. 

This was not a party Seto was used to going to, it was divided amongst the two conference rooms with one housing an open bar and tables with snacks, various developers scattered all over in little groups discussing all manner of things. The other room was for dancing, you could see the bright green and purple and red lights strobing and moving through the small door that separated you from the heart-thumpingly loud music. Seto quickly crossed the calmer of the two rooms toward the bar, ordering each of you a drink before scanning the room for, presumably, someone he was meant to talk to. 

You were a little surprised the elder Kaiba had opted to come to this party at all, with how exhausted he’d been over the past month you would have thought he’d be ready to return to your hotel and pass out in the bed. The loud music and bright flashing lights, even if mostly contained to the opposite room, were still positively not his speed. 

“Well this is a shock,” came a familiar Japanese voice from behind you. The two of you turned to face Otogi Ryuuji, a friend of Yugi’s and (if you were remembering correctly) the creator of some sort of dice game. 

“Otogi,” Seto said curtly, making no move to shake hands or bow or otherwise greet him in any way. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Ryuuji said with a smirk, taking a sip of his drink before turning his attention to you, “I especially didn’t expect to see you here.” 

You raised an eyebrow in prompting for him to elaborate while you tapped a nail on your glass. 

“I just never thought Kaiba could keep a girlfriend this long,” he taunted, though you couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a friendly jab or more sinister. His voice didn’t reveal much, but he had a satisfied grin on his face that you didn’t appreciate.

“I don’t lose things that are important to me,” Seto said icily, “Speaking of which, I hear your company’s stock dropped a considerable amount in the last few months. Better hold on tight to what you have left.” 

Had you been on the receiving end of that thinly-veiled threat, you probably would have been shivering at this point. But you were focused on the fact that Seto had just called you important, so you were unable to hold back the smile dancing on your lips. Ryuuji merely stared back at your boyfriend, jaw set tensely as the grin quickly vanished from his face. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” Ryuuji muttered finally, “I have actual business to tend to.” He glanced between the two of you and took another long sip of his drink before darting around you to shake hands with someone at the other end of the room. Seto observed him carefully, but seemed less interested in him and more so in the man he was talking to. He had on a flashy pastel blue suit and long, bright pink hair you were positive took more boxes of hair dye than you had fingers on your hand. 

“I don’t like the looks of that,” your boyfriend muttered pointedly.

“Who is that?” 

“That is Zigfreid von Schroeder.” 

“The president of Schroeder Corp.?” You asked, “What do you think they’re talking about?”

“I’m not positive,” he hummed, “But it doesn’t matter. Even if they formed some kind of shoddy partnership it wouldn’t be enough to threaten Kaiba Corporation.”

He sounded so confident in his company, his current status as the absolute largest gaming corporation in the world, that you were quickly put at ease. If he said it was true, then it was true. Still, he watched the two young CEOs chat excitedly, noticing when they both glanced over at him with strange, self-satisfied grins. You narrowed your eyebrows and pursed your lips in a frown, glancing up to see your boyfriend staring back at the two with his intimidating poker-face that had earned him the title of Japan’s most ruthless business tycoon.

You were glad you were on Seto’s good side when you saw his scary faces like that, glad that you were one of the only people to see his happier faces. His smirks, his little grins, the rare times he was content enough to relax around you. You loved absolutely every instance of happiness that graced his features, however brief and however well hidden. You squeezed his hand as the thoughts crossed your mind, and he barely glanced to you in acknowledgement before locking eyes with a man across the room. 

The short, skinny, mousey looking man bounded over towards the two of you with a friendly smile, running a hand through his bright blonde hair and adjusting his square-frame glasses before extending a hand toward your boyfriend. He did the same for you, and cheerily introduced himself as Eric, lead developer for a little indie game you had seen a very early demo for while you were on the show floor, called Connected, though you hadn’t played it yet. 

“I was so honored when you stopped by to play my demo,” the man who looked to be in his late twenties began. “What did you want to talk about?” 

“I’ll be frank,” Seto said after taking a sip from his drink, switching easily to English to speak to the man, “I want to offer you a job, full-time at the main branch.” 

Eric looked awe-struck for a moment, staring up at your boyfriend with wide, sparkling eyes. “Mister Kaiba, I’m honored--”

“You should be.”

“—When do you want me to move?”

“Within the month.”

“I… that’s so soon. But, Mister Kaiba, I’m not sure I could develop for you and for my own game. It’s just me working on Connected, and it’s not near complete.”

Seto gave him a long stare, looking him up and down and assessing his value to the company. For him to offer the guy a job on the spot, he must have been developing a pretty amazing game. 

“How much time do you need?”

“To finish the game?”

“Yes.”

“At least another two years if I continue working at the pace I am now.”

“What if it was your only job?” Seto pressed, voice quick and demanding. 

“I… I suppose hypothetically I could cut it down to a year, but there’s no way I could afford to—“

“Quit your job. I’ll pay you as a full-time employee of Kaiba Corporation for one year to finish your game. I’ll also fund any development and marketing costs. After its release, you’ll move to Domino and work for me.”

Eric blinked, utter shock washing over his features as Seto pulled out a contract from the inner pocket of his coat. He unfolded it, and produced a pen from the same pocket, before handing them both over to the man and continuing his terms. 

“You’ll send me monthly updates on the game’s progress and receipts of any and all extraneous costs. If the game is not complete within the year, you will re-locate to Domino City regardless and begin work as a programming lead full-time. You’ll be free to finish Connected on your own time.” He pointed to an area on the second page with his pen, “I assume this will be enough pay to cover your expenses?”

Eric looked down at the contract and his mouth formed an ‘o’ of surprise. You couldn’t see much of the contract from where you stood, but knowing the high wages afforded to every Kaiba Corp. employee, you were sure there were more zeroes on that paper than was by any means necessary. 

“This is… Mister Kaiba, you don’t know how grateful I am.”

“Take it to your hotel, think over it.” Seto said, “Bring it back to me tomorrow.”

“Of course, thank you so much sir!” 

Seto hummed coolly, and the two of you watched him flip through the contract as he bounded off toward the other end of the room and toward the exit. You saw him turn the corner and disappear into the bright hallway. Your boyfriend had probably made him the happiest man in Boston. 

You grinned up at him and finished off your glass, watching as he did the same and glanced around the room for a minute to confirm that Ryuuji and Zigfreid had left the premises. When he was satisfied, he set his glass down on a table and led you out, away from the bright lights and loud music, and back toward your own hotel across the street. He was walking much slower now than usual, as if content and confident with how he had left things at the party, and rubbing his thumb along your hand as his fingers laced with yours.


	5. Rivals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a liiiiiiittle bit of smut teasing to hold y'all over for the actual smut chapter in a few weeks ;)

You awoke on Saturday with your face buried into the crook of Seto’s arm, his knee jabbing into your thigh as he sprawled across his half of the king sized bed you had invaded. His other hand was on your back, fingertips gripping at your spine. You turned your head slightly to look up at his face, his brows were knit together beneath his dense crop of bangs and his jaw was tensed like he was having a nightmare. You propped yourself up on one of your elbows and use the other hand to reach over to his hair, brushing his bangs gently out of his face so you could see him more clearly. Despite his his even breaths, he was undoubtedly having a less than happy dream. 

You ran your fingertips through his locks of chocolatey brown hair, brushing them against his scalp in hopes that it would ease his dreams, though you were fairly certain that wasn’t how it worked. For good measure, you quietly cleared your throat before beginning to softly hum the first song that popped into your head as you stroked. You were careful not to hum too loudly for fear of waking him from the rare sleep he was getting, all too aware of how light a sleeper he was. 

You did this for a few minutes, though he showed no signs that your attempts at comforting him were doing much of anything either harmful or helpful. Still, you continued playing with his hair, curling strands around your fingers and humming lowly until you realized he might prefer to be woken from his dream by you than his alarm. You removed your fingers from his hair carefully and reached across him to grab his phone, confirming the early time of seven fifty and inputting your boyfriend’s pin (the date of his parents’ wedding anniversary as you had learned when he was slightly drunk and in a conversational mood) and switching off the alarm for eight. You were seriously tempted to let him sleep much longer considering he hadn’t come to bed til nearly three, but you knew he needed to be on the show floor before it opened, so that wasn’t an option. 

You returned to running your fingers through his mess of hair until it was finally eight, when you leaned down and kissed him gingerly on the forehead a few times and murmured his name. He might never admit it, but Seto prefered to be woken up by your soft kisses over the blaring siren of the alarm on his phone, he always seemed to be in a much better mood on the occasions you stirred before he did and took it upon yourself to wake him.

You moved yourself down a little to peck at his nose until he hummed beneath you, eyelids fluttering open tiredly. You smiled down at him and used your arms to push yourself upward, hovering above his face so he could get up. His hand quickly snaked around your waist and pulled you to the side, and you swung your leg over him so you were straddling him before he pulled you back down for a kiss. 

“Good morning,” you purred into his lips. 

“Hmm, morning,” he mumbled back, keeping you down against his abdomen while he used his free hand to run his fingers along your cheek and down your jaw lazily while he kissed you. Seto was always so pleasant in the mornings, especially when woken up by you. You liked to chock it up to a mixture of well-rested slumber and morning wood. 

“Did you sleep well?” You murmured. Okay, yeah, you already knew the answer to that was a solid no, but if you asked innocently enough he might tell you what his dream was about. He wouldn’t do so otherwise, you were positive. It was totally manipulative, but you could feel bad about it later. 

“As well as can be expected,” he replied vaguely, and you might have pressed him further had his voice not been so sweet and his fingers not tracing lines down your back underneath the shirt you had stolen from him late in the night. It felt so nice, and you shivered a little into his touch as the blankets fell off your shoulders and pooled onto the bed. 

You adjusted your arms so they were in a more comfortable position on either side of his head, allowing your upper body to fall into his, pressing your chest against his with only the thin fabric of his undershirt clinging to your body to separate your skin. He hummed again, this time barely audibly, and you practically melted into him with the low little sounds he was making. 

“And you?” He asked softly into your lips between kisses. His fingertips danced along your spine and up to the nape of your neck, lifting your shirt up enough that you had to focus on his warm body to distract yourself from the cold caused by the air conditioning blasting in the hotel room. When he felt the tiny goosebumps along your skin, he took the covers and pulled them over your upper body and head, trapping you both beneath a tent of silky white sheets.

“I slept well.”

“Of course you did,” he lilted, taking a long pause to lick softly at your bottom lip and tilting his head so his nose brushed past yours and he had a better angle of access. He teased you for a moment longer, barely brushing his lips on yours and letting his tongue run over your mouth ever-so-slightly any time you tried to deepen the kiss. Finally, he tilted his head back and pulled his lips away from you to allow a cocky grin to grace his features, “You slept with me, after all.”

Fuck, you would go to the ends of the earth for this man.

Seto took advantage of your momentary unpreparedness and brought up one of his legs between yours, flipping the two of you over onto the bed so the covers above you billowed upward and tangled around your arms. Your back hit the mattress and he was on top of you in an instant, his thigh pressed against your crotch as his arm snanked away from your back to grip one of your wrists. 

“How are you so energetic in the morning?” You mumbled, wriggling against him and feeling a heat swell in your chest. 

He merely smirked down at you, not even dignifying you with a response before he lowered himself so you couldn’t move anymore. He moved his face past yours, strands of messy hair brushing against your cheek as his teeth nipped at your earlobe. His leg pressed even harder against your panties as you barely squirmed, 

The two of you heard a loud, high-pitched wail from the other room, and immediately Seto froze above you and you stopped whimpering, listening to what sounded like an alarm. It played for a moment longer, before stopping abruptly and filling the air with silence. When you heard a door shut, Seto moved off of you and the covers slipped off him, the brightness of the room flooding your vision. He quickly got off the bed and crossed the room to open the door and peer into the main room of the suite while you stretched your arms over your head and arched your back before sitting up. 

“Mokuba’s awake,” Seto mumbled, shutting the door and turning his lovely chiseled abs back toward you. The two of you heard the sound of water running through pipes, probably the younger Kaiba getting into the shower.

“Wow, and we didn’t even have to drag him out of bed,” you hummed, trying not to sound too disappointed as Seto began to pull out some clothes from the closet. You had been so looking forward to sexy time.

You pushed yourself off the bed and joined him at the closet, or rather next to the closet where all your clothes were still in a suitcase because, really, only crazy people unpacked their things for a four-day trip. You pulled out some comfy clothing and as you stood back up felt Seto’s hand on your back. You tilted your head up to look at him, his blue eyes sparkling while one of his long white trench coats hung over his shoulder. 

“Don’t think that was the end of it,” he said coolly, his voice low and firm, “We still have all night after the convention.”

You weren’t quite sure if you should have taken it as a threat or a promise, but his sultry voice left you shivering with anticipation.

\-----

You’d spent the majority of the day exploring the entirety of the Indie Megabooth, playing through every game you found even remotely interesting. You had even ended up entering a mini-tournament held by the devs of a fighting game. By the end of the hour and a half, you had made it to second place, which you chocked up to all the Kaiba Corp fighting games you had tested with your boyfriend (and that he almost always beat you at). You won a free tee shirt, and stuffed it into your bag of various other swag as you decided to return to your boyfriend and see what he was doing, stopping by a pretzel booth for a snack on the way.

You headed back toward Seto’s booth in the middle of the show floor and noticed Yugi on the stage, dueling a young boy who couldn’t have been more than twelve. Which meant Seto was probably inside the employee’s only section of the booth. You walked into the little “room” constructed from makeshift walls behind the stage Yugi was performing on and set your bags onto the floor, closing the door behind you and looking up to see Seto on the couch, furiously typing away at his laptop. His brow was furrowed, his shoulders were tensed, and his gaze was so piercing you had to debate whether to ask what was wrong or turn around and walk out. 

“I told you not to come back until it was time for the finale,” he suddenly demanded tersely, “I cleared all of you out for a reason. How do you expect me to concentrate when you keep pestering me?”

You blinked and looked around the little room setup and confirmed that all the employees were indeed gone, probably out on the show floor helping with demos or watching Yugi duel. Usually there were at least one or two people back in the room taking their breaks or logging QA and demo comments, but as of now it was only Seto. 

“Well don’t just stand there mute like an imbecile,” he huffed, snapping his cold gaze upwards and quickly softening when he saw it was you. “Oh.”

“Nice to see you too.”

“I didn’t realize it was you.” He muttered, a poor excuse for an apology but you’d take it. 

“I figured. Is something going on?”

“Apparently my employees cannot manage themselves and saw fit to distract me from my work every five minutes, so I kicked them all out.”

“Shouldn’t you be on the show floor talking about the Souzou and signing autographs instead of working?” You asked, making your way to the couch and plopping yourself down next to him. You offered him a bite of your soft pretzel, which he only took when you shoved it right under his nose. 

“Do you remember the man who played the Rescue Party demo four times yesterday?” He finally grumbled.

“The one in the Starcraft tee shirt who smelled like death?”

“Yes, he played it twice more today--”

“Did he smell any better?”

“Worse. And he found a bug.”

“In the demo? With how much QA testing you guys did beforehand I’m surprised.”

“As am I, because the bug was already fixed.” Seto huffed, returning to his lines of code and reading through to find his place before he set to work replacing certain lines again and running through the debugging process. You finished your pretzel and leaned back on the couch, and watched his fingers tap on the side of the laptop when he wasn’t typing. 

“So if it was already fixed why is it in the demo again?”

“Exactly my problem.”

“Are you going to fire someone?”

“I might fire you if you don’t quit distracting me,” he muttered. 

“Okay, I get it,” you sighed, pushing yourself off the couch and heading back toward the door. Ignoring the fact that he could not, in fact, fire his girlfriend, he seemed really stressed and like he could use the peace and quiet. You had nothing to do in the empty room if he was going to be debugging, anyway. 

You plucked the guidebook from one of your bags and opened up the map of the show floor up. You’d already checked out all the indie games you could find, so maybe you’d have to just buckle down and stand in line for the new Bethesda game, though you’d wanted to save that for Sunday. Then again, Seto and Yugi were going to be dueling in less than an hour so you probably wouldn’t even get through the line. 

You decided to, instead, head over to the tabletop section and see if there were any fun party games you didn’t already own. Without bothering to inform your boyfriend, since you’d be back to watch his duel anyway, you put your excess bags into the little cubby next to his and braced yourself to, again, tread through the overpopulated expo floor and attempt not to get lost on your way to the board games.

\-----

By the time you made it back to the Kaiba Corporation booth after playing entirely too many rounds of various card and board games you’d never played before, plus kicking a few people’s butts in Gwent, the duel between Seto and Yugi was being hyped to the ends of the Earth by Isono. Yugi was already out front, surrounded by a group of children bouncing up and down at the chance to meet the King of Games. Seto, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found.

You ducked into the back room again to find him staring up at the ceiling, leaned against one of the far walls. His bangs fell chaotically in his eyes, a calm frown on his soft lips, one index finger tapping slowly and rhythmically against his arm. 

“Hey, the duel’s about to start,” you said softly.

“I know.”

“What are you doing back here?” _All by yourself and looking so… weird._

“Strategizing,” he muttered.

You nodded slowly, though he was not looking at you so he wouldn’t see it. You weren’t really sure what to say, unwilling to point out the weird mood he seemed to be in right before such a big duel, for fear of throwing him off his game. Although, Seto Kaiba wasn’t exactly one to be thrown. You could hear Isono’s excited voice booming through the thin, temporary walls, explaining the technology that would be shown off in the duel between two of the most well-known champions in the history of Duel Monsters. 

Abruptly, Seto pushed himself off the wall and turned to face you, his frown turned into a carefully constructed emotionless mask. You stared at him for a long time, trying to figure out what exactly was wrong, if the stress had just finally gotten to him or if something had actually happened. 

“Are you going to watch?” He asked.

“Of course,” you said, “I wouldn’t miss it.” 

He merely nodded and began to walk past you, gesturing for you to follow. The two of you exited the back room and he made his way toward the side of the stage, pointing to one of the reserved seats in the front for you to sit in. 

“Good luck!” 

“I don’t need luck,” he scoffed. 

“Okay grumpy,” you muttered under your breath as you took your seat. 

Isono announced each of the men, throwing his arms up in a dramatic fashion and pausing to let the audience of people sitting in chairs, standing in line, or just crowding around the booth go completely wild. Seto and Yugi both nodded at each other, their incredibly technologically advanced duel discs already on their arms. The two took flashy stances upon the stage and the duel began, sucking everyone burning attention onto them and only them. 

The first two turns were entertaining and fast-paced, the two duelists trading blows with some newer versions of their iconic monsters, but Seto pulling ahead in terms of life point value due to some burn-style trap and spell cards. The duel was already the most amazing thing you’d seen this weekend, the art of the holograms, the boiling blood of the audience, the back-and-forth between the world’s two most skilled duelists.

But the look in Seto’s eyes was different from what you would have expected whilst dueling his rival. There wasn’t the same, burning passion in his blue eyes that was currently alight in Yugi’s, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on why. Something was just… off. He was dueling seriously, of course, not holding back or pulling punches against the heralded King of Games, and right now he was winning. But he looked wholly unsatisfied with the twenty-three hundred lifepoint advantage he held. He looked like he’d rather be doing something else right now, instead of fighting against one of his only friends in front of a crowd of sweaty con-goers.

He looked like he’d rather be dueling someone else.

But that didn’t seem right, you thought. Yugi Mutou was, had always been Seto’s number-one rival since they were in high school. You’d seen countless video feeds from various tournaments the two had competed in where Seto declared he would take the King of Games title from the man. Who could Seto possibly rather duel right now? 

A couple years ago you might have ignored the feeling you had in favor of the more rational, factual explanation. You must have been imagining things, of course Seto was enjoying the duel, it was against Yugi after all. There was just no reason for your boyfriend to not be elated at the chance to crush him in front of an audience of cheering fans. It would be a great way to promote Souzou sales, Kaiba Corp. sales in general, and more importantly be a hefty boost to his already massive ego. You might have pushed the confusion from your mind and blamed it on his resting-bitch-face.

Except that wasn’t the case. You knew that look he had, and it wasn’t passion or excitement. It was desire, longing, a spark buried underneath his other emotions that reached out for something else, someone else, that wasn’t there. 

You were jolted from your thoughts when the crowd behind you erupted into applause and cheers and screams as a bright, sparkling pink light appeared on the field in front of Yugi, before revealing one of his most iconic cards, the Black Magician Girl. She gave a wink to the crowd and flew around a few times before taking her place in attack mode on the field, and you had to take a moment to marvel at just how much effort Seto had put into the showmanship of each of the holograms. 

Yugi had such a big grin on his face as he activated an Incantation Book of Black Magic, causing a brilliant flash of light and a shiny spellbook to appear in front of his new compatriot. You watched her attack point rise rapidly, high enough to take down your boyfriend’s Krystal Dragon. You and the rest of the crowd watched in awe as his monster was blasted from the field, though Seto lost only two-hundred lifepoints and looked unfazed by the event, barely moving from his position on the stage to take the blast.

“Nice effort,” Seto said dryly as Yugi set a face-down card and turned the duel over, “But your Magician Girl won’t be sticking around long enough to celebrate.”

The trash-talking, the little quips, on the outside he looked like he was enjoying the duel as much as any other. Anyone who didn’t know him very well probably thought all was fine, but you were convinced otherwise. You were starting to get curious if Yugi had noticed, as well, or if even he didn’t know your boyfriend well enough. 

You were following the duel alright, although you sometimes had no idea what effects brought out some of their cards, you could understand why each monster won each battle. You weren’t sure how Yugi got out his Black Magician on his next turn, or how Seto got a Blue Eyes on the field, but you grinned happily for your boyfriend when he struck down Yugi’s most iconic monster with ease. You also frowned when Yugi used a Mirror Force to destroy said Blue Eyes and put a hefty dent in Seto’s lifepoints.

You were distracted by a loud roar of applause across the aisle in the expo hall, coming from the Schroeder Corporation booth which stood next to the Kaiba Corp. setup. You watched as Zigfreid, the CEO of said corporation, waltzed out onto the stage in a gaudy magenta suit and tousled his pink hair with a self-satisfied grin. He began excitedly talking to two other men on stage, and you realized he was running a sort of panel on the company’s new releases, and every word that he spoke quickly annoyed you. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen a more insincere person in your life.

By the time you were finally paying attention to the duel again, both Seto and Yugi were down to five-hundred lifepoints each. Yugi had his Buster Blader out, and with so many dragons in Seto’s graveyard, its attack points were so high you had no idea how he could possibly destroy it.You hated Buster Blader, if you were being honest, it seemed like just about the only card you’d seen Seto have trouble defeating, and anything that gave him a hard time you automatically hated. 

“If you think that card will be enough to save you, you’re sorely mistaken. I activate Goblin Thief.” Seto announced, and actually, finally grinned as he closed in on victory, playing a spell you’d seen in the final draft of his new deck while the two of you were on the plane. 

A large goblin appeared on the field before him, and you were familiar with its effects. Still, you were thankful that the two boys next to you were much more knowledgeable about the game than you were, and that they were explaining all the little rules to one of their younger siblings. You knew a good amount about your boyfriend’s deck since he spent some time dueling against Mokuba as practice for this duel, but you were pretty unfamiliar with Yugi’s deck, especially after he’d apparently changed it just for this duel. 

So when Yugi flipped a trap that you’d never seen before and the crowd fell into a shocked silence, you zeroed into the conversation between the boys sitting beside you in hopes that they would explain what was happening. 

“As long as that card is face-up, all the lifepoints Kaiba heals is done as damage instead,” One of the boys said to his sister.

“But he played it after Kaiba played his card,” the young girl said, confused. 

“That means the cards chain.”

“Chain?”

“Yeah, since the cards were chained together, that means Yugi’s trap activates first,” The other boy said.

“That doesn’t sound fair,” the girl frowned, “So does that mean--”

“They tie?” You muttered under your breath, watching as the Goblin Thief Seto had played moved to hand him a bag he had ‘taken’ from Yugi, and you marveled at the intuity of the hologram as the bag exploded in his hand. The explosion dealt damage to each of them, smoke covering the entire field and hiding them both from sight momentarily. When it cleared, both their life points simultaneously dropped to zero. 

Seto stared down Yugi with a cocked eyebrow and a frown, which Yugi returned with a shrug, and the crowd stayed frozen in silence as they processed what had just happened, the fact that they had both lost.

“Wow,” Yugi said finally, “I can’t believe you forced me into a draw. That was fun!”

Seto made a ‘humph’ before he cracked a smirk, “I can assure you, next time you won’t get away with such a cheap trick.” 

And with that, the audience erupted into cheers and whoops and applause, many of them jumping to their feet to show their adoration. Both the duelists turned to face the crowd, waving and posing and oozing so much showmanship that they looked positively dorky. You stood as well and clapped, mostly for your boyfriend, who had put on a wonderful show and programmed such amazing holograms. Still, you couldn’t shake your earlier feeling that he wasn’t quite himself for most of the duel, looking like he didn’t really want to be dueling Yugi, like he’d rather be against a different opponent. 

Perhaps you’d ask him once the expo was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just got back from a wedding, then Colossalcon back-to-back. Now I'm back home and ready to work work work! 
> 
> By the way, did you guys hear about my butt door getting banned from the waterpark at Colossal? I made the Hip of Babylon for my Aoba cosplay from Keijo (the greatest anime ever made btw) and security made me remove it. Have you ever just... memed so hard that the man tried to hold you down? 
> 
> Between the Yugioh fanfiction and the door of asses I think my life has reached the point of no return in terms of pure insanity.


	6. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly just a feel-good chapter. And then some less feel-good stuff at the end. :D

You’d ended up at Denny’s. 

To be fair, it wasn’t as if anyone in their right mind chose to go to Denny’s, it was a restaurant that people somehow found themselves eating in at one in the morning merely because it was the only thing open and it was on the way to wherever they were going. Or, in your case, it was because Jeremy had suggested it as an alternative to McDonalds or Taco Bell, your only other options considering the midnight hour. For the record, you had voted McDonalds. 

You and the Kaiba brothers had arrived in your hometown late in the night on Sunday after wrapping up PAX and helping clean up the expo hall. Well, you had helped, Seto had mostly coordinated and ordered around his employees and Mokuba had disappeared to schmooze with other developers. From there, the three of you traveled straight to your home and arrived just after eleven. Your parents stayed up long enough to shower you with affection and blearily greet your boyfriend and the younger Kaiba before excusing themselves to get some shut-eye. The plan was to wake up early for breakfast together, then go sight-seeing and have dinner at The Cheesecake Factory (per your request, because goddammit you wanted some Tex Mex eggrolls if it was the last thing you ate). 

Since your parents had disappeared into their room to sleep, and you were much too excited and still a little too jetlagged to sleep yet, you had called upon your dear partners in crime to entertain you. Jeremy and Kevin were happy to oblige, though Vincent needed a little more convincing considering he had class in the morning, but ultimately he agreed. Kevin’s girlfriend, Ayesha, was also along for the ride.

Seto and Mokuba had opted to stay at your home, Seto to catch up on work on your comfortable sofa, and Mokuba to pass out after a day of non-stop talking and mingling with potential Kaiba Corp. partners. Which was probably all for the best considering your current situation, squished between Vincent and Jeremy in a too-small Denny’s booth, and probably sitting on a bit of old pancake syrup. A half-eaten waffle was sat in front of you, on a plate next to some very dry scrambled eggs that you may or may not have over-salted. 

“Man, I wish our iHOP was open twenty-four hours,” you hummed sardonically, taking a bite of your mediocre waffle. 

“It is now,” Vincent replied.

“What? Why the fuck are we at Denny’s?” 

Ayesha snickered at your grumpy huff and took a bite of her sandwich while Kevin stole one of her fries. The five of you talked about school, work, and what had been going on lately. You still talked to them all on voice coms pretty often, so there wasn’t much new to discuss, although they were all pretty interested in what you had played at PAX. You listed off games you were excited to play when they released, along with games that were already on Steam. 

Dinner was otherwise uneventful, you all finished your food and split the check before climbing back into Vincent’s car and heading back home. Kevin was dropped off first, followed by Ayesha, and then you. You exchanged hugs with Jeremy and Vincent before hopping out to your driveway and waving wildly from your mudroom as the car peeled out. 

When you got inside, you immediately headed to your unfinished basement, that had somehow become more creepy in your absence, and toward the washer and dryer in the corner. Your parents had told you they had put your favorite blanket in the dryer just before your arrival so it would be warm and clean for you. You tugged it out of the machine, breathing in the smell of clean and fabric softener as you trudged back up the stairs and into the living room, where Seto was still awake and typing away at his laptop. You plopped the blanket down next to him and headed into the bathroom with your toiletries, washing off your makeup and brushing your teeth before you returned to see what he was doing. 

“Ready for bed?” You asked.

“I have some more work to do.” He replied.

You plucked your blanket up and hummed, “Will you come to bed anyway? You can work until you’re ready to sleep.”

He glanced up at you with a raised eyebrow, taking a long moment to think over your offer before he finally nodded. He pulled the laptop charger out of the wall and followed you into your old bedroom, looking largely the same as when you had left for Japan aside from the temporary air mattress in the middle. The walls were still a dark purple, a reminder of the emo phase that you had outgrown in high school, but you and your parents had never bothered to re-paint the walls. In one corner was the desk that had previously held your desktop computer, now covered in stuffed animals you had left in a box in your closet before moving. The bookshelf on the other side of the room held snowglobes, knick-knacks, and other various tchotchkes on the top shelves. The bottom shelves held actual books, some of which you may or may not have checked out of the local library and forgotten to return. You probably owed the library a fortune by now.

You led Seto over to your small, twin-size bed against the wall. You allowed him to get comfortable atop the small bed while you began to put your blanket on the air mattress next to it on the floor.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Getting ready for bed,” you replied. 

“You don’t plan to sleep up here?”

You tilted your head up to see he had propped your pillows up and shoved himself against the wall. 

“It’s too small for both of us,” you said.

He frowned at you for a long while before finally nodding and returning his attention to his laptop. You bit back a chuckle at his obvious disappointment at being unable to snuggle with you for the night, and finished setting up your air mattress before you crawled over your bed to him. You peered over his laptop and planted a kiss on his nose, grinning devilishly as you tried to decide if you wanted to tease him or not. 

Who were you kidding? Of course you would tease him.

“Don’t miss me too much tonight, my dear.” You mused. 

He rolled his eyes and merely replied with a short kiss on your lips. You chuckled to yourself and retreated to your own air mattress, snuggling into the fresh-smelling blanket and focusing your ears on the melodic sound of Seto’s typing to lull yourself to sleep.

\-----

Exploring your hometown had gone largely as expected: Mokuba took about a thousand photos and selfies for his Instagram, Seto made it a point to keep his phone away for the majority of the day out of politeness, and you entertained yourself with observing how your parents interacted with the Kaiba brothers. 

By the time evening had rolled around, you’d all made your way to The Cheesecake Factory with you practically bouncing from excitement. Were there better restaurants? Yes. Did they have Tex Mex eggrolls and Tiramisu cheesecake? Hell no! Seto would eventually get over the fact that the steak was clearly not up to his snooty standards, but Mokuba seemed to be enjoying the very American burger he’d ordered. 

Thus far, you were thoroughly impressed with how well Seto was handling your parents and their strange sense of humor. He seemed to be at least somewhat enjoying himself, and he’d been spending a good majority of dinner chatting with your dad, who was obviously impressed with your boyfriend’s vast knowledge of American politics and business. You and your mom mainly talked about school and how you were doing in preparation for your upcoming fashion show, making inappropriate jokes along the way. 

You’d discovered Mokuba was practically in awe of how casually you interacted with your parents, at least compared to how he saw most of his Japanese friends interact with theirs. Sure, with he and Seto being brothers it was a little different since it was totally normal for the two of them to tease each other constantly, but for a lot of parent-child relationships he’d been exposed to it wasn’t quite that simple. In Japan, respect was held above all else, and it must have been weird for him to see you joking with your mother and father so easily, especially when he and Seto were sitting right next to you. He’d watched your mom let more than a few swears completely slide while she talked to you without even batting an eye, something completely alien to him. 

“So, Mokuba,” Your mom began, “Are you enjoying school this year? You’re a senior, right?”

“Uh, a third year, yeah,” Mokuba replied. “School’s okay. I mean, it’s school.” 

She nodded in understanding and took a bite of her pasta, thinking about his words while she looked over to the other side of the table where your dad and Seto were sitting across from each other, discussing the current state of the United States government. The conversation was quite civil, entirely based on logic, and was honestly boring you to death. You could see your mom trying to keep her (very strong) political beliefs out of the discussion before she popped a blood vessel, and she again turned her attention to Mokuba. 

“What do you want to do after you graduate?” She asked.

“I think Seto wants to train me some more to take over Kaiba Corp. someday,” he replied with a shrug. 

“I asked what _you_ want to do, honey,” she prodded. 

Mokuba stared at her wide-eyed for a moment before quickly darting his eyes down to his food and picking up a handful of fries to stall for time searching for an answer. Your mother was blunt, straight to the point, and unapologetic, but her observations were spot-on. You thought for a moment on how you were, very much, her daughter, while you took a long sip of your strawberry lemonade and glanced over at your boyfriend. He had very clearly picked up on the conversation, though he was juggling between listening to it and making intelligent comments to your dad on the ongoing US election.

“I dunno,” Mokuba finally stated awkwardly, “I don’t hate working for the company or anything. Being vice president is kind of fun, I like all the employees.” 

Your mom hummed thoughtfully but didn’t press him any further, taking a sip of her tea before she turned back to you and asked to see photos of what garments you were working on. You obligingly handed her your phone and let her scroll through your fashion album (which you kept separate from all your other photos on your phone because you had some more than private ones scattered about). She ooh’d and awe’d about your designs and interrupted your dad mid-thought to about shove the phone in his face. He followed suit, ogling the garments in various states of doneness on the screen and doting on both them and you. You allowed a grin to wander its way on your face as your parents prattled on about how proud of you they were, noticing the smirk that crossed Seto’s lips as he took the break in conversation to eat some of his food. 

Your dad quickly forgot his political train of thought after handing you back your phone (which he almost dropped in his iced tea) so he instead decided to talk Blizzard games with you. He was about the only person you knew who still played Heroes of the Storm, and you had a fun time discussing what they had to show off at PAX over the weekend. Seto chose to stay out of the gaming talk, surprisingly, opting instead to have a silent conversation with Mokuba as they made gestures and eyebrow wiggles to each other. 

When it was time for cheesecake, Seto offered to split one with you considering you hadn’t finished your eggrolls and you could barely fit any more food in your stomach. But dammit, you were going to eat as much delicious food as you could regardless of consequences, so you insisted upon ordering your own. Everyone ordered their own flavor of cheesecake, other than your dad who went with the same flavor as you; the two of you shared an unhealthy love for Tiramisu.

The five of you snacked happily on your cheesecakes, stealing bites of each other’s to see how each tasted, and overall having a jolly time. Seto looked content with how dinner had gone, and you were surprised that he hadn’t checked his emails the entire night. Mokuba seemed to have pushed past the momentary awkwardness on your mom’s question about his future, and was laser-focused on devouring his triple-chocolate cheesecake, a grin painted across his face. 

You ended up with half your eggrolls and the last few bites of cheesecake in to-go boxes for the flight back to Japan. Isono had carted all your luggage from your home back to the airport, where it was already being lugged onto the plane the three of you were taking to Domino immediately after dinner. The limo was waiting outside the restaurant, and you tried to keep your sudden pang of homesickness down as you watched Seto and your dad argue over who would pay the bill. 

“You’re our guest tonight,” your dad said dismissively, his debit card already in his hand as he gestured for the waitress to take it. 

“I’m not allowing you to pay for my meal,” Seto replied, his platinum holographic credit card between his fingers and practically shoved at the waitress. Neither of them had even looked at the total of the meal. 

“No, no, I insist.” 

“I am the CEO of a multi-billion dollar corporation,” Seto huffed, and you had to bite your tongue to keep from speaking in-tune with him, “I have more money than I know what to do with.”

“Well I’ll tell you what you’re not doing,” your dad nodded decisively, “Paying for dinner tonight.”

The two of them glared pleasantly at each other, your poor waitress looking between them, unsure whose card to take, looking like a deer in the headlights. Finally, after a long, long staring contest, it was Seto who pulled his card away and elegantly put it back into his wallet. Your waitress took your dad’s card and scurried away, while you and Mokuba stared at him in utter shock. 

“Did that just happen?” Mokuba asked quietly in Japanese, mouth ajar.

“Shut up,” Seto muttered back.

As the five of you eventually exited the restaurant, you spotted the limousine parked on the sidewalk and awaiting you and the Kaiba brothers. You turned and exchanged long hugs and I-love-yous with your parents, fighting a sadness bubbling in your chest as you told yourself that you’d see them for your graduation in a few weeks. Mokuba was also showered in hugs and affection, wished good luck with the rest of school, and complimented on the softness of his hair.

Seto attempted to shake hands with both your parents, but was pulled into hugs as your mother insisted, “We’re a family of huggers.” He didn’t seem as comfortable with it as Mokuba had been, but he didn’t complain either. 

The three of you got into the limo and began to drive away while watching your parents wave you off. Seto immediately pulled out his phone and began scrolling through work emails he had missed over the course of the day while Mokuba grinned at you.

“Your parents are nice,” he said happily, “Your mom is really funny.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool,” you replied with an equally cheesy grin, “I’m glad you guys got to meet them.” 

You turned to look over at Seto, who was obviously listening to the two of you despite his thumbs texting along quickly in reply to an email. He said nothing for a long time, and Mokuba eventually pulled out his own phone and began to busy himself with social media. 

“Did you like them?” You asked hopefully.

Seto glanced over at you, humming coolly as he finished typing up his email before he turned his full attention to you. He stared at you for a long while, watching as you tapped your finger on your leg before he finally let a smirk grace his features. 

“Your father impressed me,” he said, “And your mother was quite the unique woman.” When you didn’t seem quite satisfied with his answer, he added, “Yes, I liked them.” 

You smiled the whole way to the airport.

\-----

You had slept for the final few hours of the flight back to Japan, the Sherlock audiobook still playing through your earbuds when Mokuba shook you awake as the wheels of the plane touched down on the runway. Seto was pulling his laptop into its briefcase, before he began putting many of his personal artifacts in with is. His keys, phone, and wallet all went into the little pockets that were sewn into the case’s lining, and you eyed him curiously as he closed the case and took it by the handle. 

Mokuba frowned equally curiously at his brother as the three of you waited patiently for the pilot to announce it was time to disembark. You and Mokuba grabbed your small carry-on bags and followed Seto and Isono out of the large plane, down the stairs onto the tarmac. It was mid-day in Japan, the sun blaring down on you overhead in contrast to the cold wind nipping at your bare arms. It was cooler in Japan than it had been back in the States. 

Seto handed Mokuba the briefcase he had put all his things into and glanced over at a second, smaller KC jet that was across the tarmac. Mokuba’s frown deepened as he, seemingly, began to understand why his brother was acting so weird all of a sudden. You tilted your head and watched your boyfriend ruffle the younger’s hair and offer a serious stare. 

“You’re in charge until I get back.”

Mokuba was in charge? In charge of what? The company? Seto had never, ever relinquished control of Kaiba Corp. to anyone, even Mokuba, in the years you had been dating him. He did not allow other to be in control his his company, even when he went on week-long business trips he worked tirelessly for the corporation. Why was he not taking his laptop, his phone, even his wallet? Where the hell was he going? 

“Nii-sama…” Mokuba sighed, but said nothing in protest. 

Seto turned to you and stared at you hard for a moment, before brushing his fingers gingerly along your jaw and kissing you lightly. You blinked in confusion, opening your mouth to let out a barrage of questions, but stopped in your tracks when he held up a hand to silence you. He offered no explanation of where he was going, what he was doing, or when he would be back. In fact, he said absolutely nothing to you before he glanced over at Isono and nodded firmly. 

The limousine pulled up next to you moments later, and Seto turned on his heels without another word, heading toward the second jet decisively. His white coat billowed behind his long strides, the wind whipping at your face and making your eyes water. You tried to blink back the water, watching his blurry figure head up the stairs to the jet and disappear inside, leave you, Isono and Mokuba behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll have to forgive the late update, I forgot today was Tuesday because I was just working non-stop on my Kaiba cosplay yesterday. So I had to write all of this today uh oops. I hope it doesn't seem rushed or anything. There may be more errors in here than usual, so if you spot any let me know!!!


	7. Loneliness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's throw ourselves a pity-party

Seto had been gone for a total of three days, three long days, and at this point you were so lonely, worried, and tired that you were about ready to send out a search party for the man. You hadn’t slept well at all the nights he had been gone, and though you were eating proper meals and snacks it was all junk food. Every time you stared up at the hospital white ceiling of your bedroom and tried to fall asleep, you could only think of his gravity-defying white trench coat billowing effortlessly behind him as he walked away from you with barely a good-bye or a word on where he was going. The thought made you terribly anxious, sometimes teary-eyed, and occasionally nauseous enough that you were convinced you were going to throw up though you never did. 

And yet, none of that compared to the younger Kaiba’s plights. Mokuba was doing an excellent job filling in for his brother as temporary-CEO, you would dare say he was working harder the past three days than you’d ever seen him work before. Every afternoon when you brought him lunch, he was on the phone with someone or another coordinating deadlines and shipments. Every evening when you brought him dinner he was responding to emails and trying his very best not to pull out his wild mess of hair. Each time you saw him you swore he looked more and more like his brother; he was beginning to affix a permanent frown on his usually jovial features, he was drinking so much coffee you feared for his little heart, and although you’d yet to witness him so much as raise his voice at anyone at Kaiba Corp. you could hear his patience wearing thinner and thinner as the days dragged on. 

He was getting next to no sleep, and he hadn’t had time to go to school in three days (and you knew he had missed a very important English test that you had been helping tutor him on). But the absolute worst part was watching him get closer and closer to breaking down whenever the front door of the mansion opened and it was a maid, or a gardener, or anyone else who wasn’t his big brother. 

“He’s never been gone this long before,” Mokuba mumbled absently to himself, sitting in his brother’s chair and hunched over a stack of documents. You had entered the office about half an hour ago, and the two of you were slowly eating at the food you had brought over once your shift had ended at work. You had your math homework sprawled across the coffee table opposite the comfy couch you were occupying, though you were having a hell of a time trying to concentrate on any of it. 

“How long is he usually gone?” You asked casually. You hadn’t been able to get much of any information out of Mokuba in regards to the elder Kaiba’s whereabouts, even though he obviously knew them. Mokuba insisted that if his brother wanted you to know where he was and what he was doing, he’d tell you himself. So far all you’d been able to gather from the vague pieces of information Mokuba tossed your way was that he did this ever few years, disappearing for a couple days to ‘relieve stress.’ Which was fine with you and all, except that didn’t explain why he didn’t have his phone with him at all or why he had left Mokuba in charge of everything. Seto Kaiba was the biggest control freak you’d ever met, even when he was at a conference and left some of his work for his secretary or some of the higher-ups on the board, he still monitored absolutely everything. 

To you, that meant Seto was somewhere he didn’t have cell phone service, but that seemed incredibly unlikely considering he had a Kaiba Corp. cell phone, and the company had a deal with every service provider known to man. He could use his phone, his laptop, his everything anywhere in the world; hell, he even had internet access on his fucking space station. So where could he possibly be?

“He’s never been gone for more than a day and a half before,” Mokuba said vaguely, taking a bite of his rice and suppressing a yawn. Poor kid had barely gotten four hours of sleep last night, and the dark circles under his eyes were growing every second he was awake. 

“Do you think he’ll be back for movie night?” You hummed hopefully, punching an equation into your graphing calculator and fighting a yawn of your own. Similarly, you’d gotten next to no sleep either, though that was mostly due to the fact that you were a ball of anxiety the entire night and couldn’t stop thinking about your missing boyfriend. 

“I hope so.” 

You glanced at the time on your phone and were about ready to throw it at a wall when the clock displayed that it was nearly eight. Mokuba had been at the office for twelve hours now, and you wanted to drag him out of the building and swaddle him if it meant he could get some decent sleep. You packed up all your things into your school bag and plopped it onto the couch, standing up and stretching your arms over your head with an over-dramatic hum. 

“Come on kiddo, let’s go home,” you said softly, making your way to the desk and looking over the papers he had in front of him. 

“I have a lot of work to do.” He muttered, and for a moment you mistook him for his older brother. His tone, his deep voice, his stubborn refusal to leave until everything was just so. You had to swallow a lump in your throat, trying to decide if you were more upset about Seto disappearing and leaving the two of you alone, or how Mokuba was starting to turn into him. 

“Mokuba,” you lilted, placing a hand on his shoulder, “It will still be here in the morning. You’ve been working for half the day now, you need some sleep honey.” 

His pen paused in the air, and he tilted his head up to stare at you. His featured visibly softened, unlike his brother Mokuba didn’t mind if you saw that he looked tired or sad. And boy oh boy did he look tired and sad, more so than you’d ever seen the usually chipper boy ever look. Before the past couple days, you would have asserted that Mokuba Kaiba could never be in a bad mood for more than five minutes.

“Okay, let me just finish this report. I’ll meet you in the car.” 

You nodded, giving him a reassuring squeeze before you removed your hand from his person and headed back toward the couch. You scooped up your bag and tossed it over your shoulder, making your way to the elevator and holding back another yawn. Aiko had already left for the day, all the papers on her desk organized into little bins by date and subject, the framed picture of her mother the only personal effect on the otherwise pristine workspace. 

You let yourself yawn loudly when you entered the empty elevator and began an uninterrupted descent to the first floor. You made your way to the parking garage exit and absently scrolled through your Facebook feed as you headed toward your little blue car. You paused on a sickeningly sweet selfie of Kevin and his lovely girlfriend, looking like two love birds without a care at all in the world. You unlocked your car and tossed your phone into the passenger seat with a huff, climbing in, shutting the door, and gripping at the leather steering wheel until your knuckles turned white. You leaned forward to rest your forehead on the wheel and let out a shaky breath.

You missed him. There were plenty of weekends where Seto left Japan on business, plenty of five-day conferences he was obligated to attend. But he always had his phone, you could text him every day, call him every night to wish him sweet dreams, most importantly you knew where he was. You knew he was safe, you knew even if he might have been stressed, he was okay. You could live with being away from him for days at a time so long as you just knew where in the world he was.

But right now you did not know where he was, he could have gone to the fucking moon and you would be none the wiser. You were tired, upset, and honestly kind of pissed off at him for disappearing on you and not even having the curtesy to tell you where or why. You let out a long groan before you willed yourself to pick your head off the steering wheel, pushing yourself against the seat with all of your arm strength until Mokuba finally made it into your car. 

“Are you okay?” He asked sleepily as he got into the passenger side of your car. He sat down, before lifting his butt to grab your phone which he had sat on, and setting it into one of your cupholders.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You’re almost as bad a liar as Nii-sama.” Mokuba muttered with a tired half-chuckle.

“How do you know I’m lying?” 

“I can see the mark on your forehead from the wheel,” Mokuba snickered. 

You glanced up to your rearview mirror to see the corner of your forehead, and the faint red line across it. You bit back a small grin as you started up the car and backed out of the parking space—your boyfriend’s parking space. Mokuba pulled out his phone and reached over to the radio to crank up the volume on the current station; it didn’t matter what was playing, it could have been deathcore for all he cared, he just couldn’t stand the sound of silence. 

It was late, but the streets were still busy enough that the two of you had to sit in traffic for a little while. Mokuba spent the ride looking at work emails, and whenever you glanced over to him and saw his face illuminated by the street lights, you almost swore to yourself. He was now much taller than you, only a few inches shorter than Seto, and if not for his wild haircut and more neutral grey eyes, he would look scarily similar to his brother. The working non-stop, the dark circles under his eyes, it was probably selfish and silly of you, but you really hoped Mokuba would finally tell his brother he didn’t want to take over the company. 

Of course, he hadn’t said it out loud to you, to anyone for that matter, but it was painfully obvious. Especially now, with how miserable he’d been the past few days. He hadn’t had any time to draw like he usually did in his free time, and since he hadn’t been going to school he hadn’t attended photography club at all. It was as if all the creativity was being sapped from his little soul, and you felt terrible. 

When the two of you arrived home, you entered through the back door and hung your keys on the rack, before making a beeline to the liquor cabinet. You had a brilliant idea to get Mokuba some sleep, and although it was both illegal and stemming from skewed morals, the kid needed a fucking nap. Mokuba trailed inside after you and raised an eyebrow when you pulled down two glasses and poured equal amounts of coconut rum into them, sliding one across the kitchen island toward him. 

“What’s this for?” He asked tentatively. 

“Drinking.”

“Yeah, I gathered that,” he rolled his eyes, “I mean why are you giving it to me?”

“Because I’m tired of being in a shitty mood,” you said, taking a long sip of the alcohol, “I say we drink some drinks and go watch a bad movie and pretend life doesn’t suck.”

Mokuba seemed suspicious of your motives, but ultimately he wasn’t one to turn down free alcohol. He finally shrugged, took a sip from the glass, and let a grin slip. Seto would never let this happen if he were home, so he had probably decided to jump on the opportunity. The two of you left the kitchen, drinks in hand, and headed toward the home theater on the other side of the mansion. Mokuba called the remote, booting up Netflix and searching for something to watch, before finally settling on a silly Chinese Kung-Fu movie and sinking into the comfy red couch. 

You pulled out your mathematics homework that you hadn’t yet finished and took another sip of your drink, trying to remember what you had learned earlier that morning when you hadn’t been quite attentive enough to really pay attention. You had spent the morning, really the whole day, worrying about where Seto had gone and what had happened to him. Hoping he was okay, hoping he would come home soon.

Trying to juggle attention between math and cheesy Chinese movies was proving to be difficult, so you ended up blowing through your homework as quickly (and sloppily) as possible so you could focus on the large screen in front of you. You noticed Mokuba finish off his glass and pour himself another once, watching him to make sure he didn’t drink too much, but pleased he was having enough to help him sleep finally. 

There were reasons you’d never pictured yourself as a parent, and giving an underage boy hard liquor just so he would sleep a few hours longer was probably one of them. Your reasons were pure, but your actions were ones that you were positive no one would approve of—especially Seto. But dammit, he wasn’t here so he couldn’t blame you for it. You didn’t know how to take care of a teenager, how to help him run an entire company, and honestly if your boyfriend got upset with you for anything that happened in his absence you would be pissed. 

Mokuba hadn’t pulled out his phone for the entire movie, which you were a little worried about but ultimately all you cared about was him keeping his stress down. The company be damned, you just wanted Mokuba to be happy and healthy. He didn’t have a third glass of alcohol, maybe to prove to you that he was responsible or maybe just because he didn’t feel like it, but you caught him yawning multiple times through the movie so clearly it was working.

By the time the movie ended, Mokuba looked absolutely exhausted. He quickly excused himself to head to sleep, and you grinned and congratulated yourself on a job well done. You picked up all the remains of alcohol and brought them back into the kitchen, before returning to the theater and deciding to look over your mathematics homework one last time before going to bed yourself. If you didn’t make some corrections, you were positive you would fail the assignment.

 

You must have fallen asleep on the couch sometime shortly after Mokuba went off to bed, because you woke up to fingers tangled in your hair. You blinked groggily, finding yourself on the comfy red couch, one arm hanging off the edge and legs bent awkwardly so your bare feet burrowed between the cushions. You yawned and pushed yourself up so you were sitting, before realizing the hand in your hair hadn’t moved. You turned your head to see where it was coming from, and had to rub your eyes to prove to yourself you weren’t dreaming.

He looked more refreshed than he had in months, the dark circles under his eyes all but completely gone, a faint smirk spread across his lips as if all the stress that had piled up on him had practically melted away. He was wearing the same outfit he had been three days ago, his tight leather pants and turtleneck and a gaudy white trench coat. He still smelled faintly of the cologne he had been wearing, his face was perfectly shaven and his nails still pristinely manicured. It shouldn’t have felt weird, he could have re-applied the same cologne, could have shaved before he came home, but it felt…eerie. Like he had actually, physically disappeared and suddenly re-appeared three days later.

You pushed the thought from your mind and launched yourself into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and nestling yourself into the smooth leather of his shirt. He staggered back a little before he caught his balance, a sigh escaping his lips as he brought one of his hands to the small of your back. 

“Miss me that much?” He hummed.

“Duh,” you huffed.

He brought his other hand to your back as well, trapping you in a light hug. You spent a moment just breathing in his smell and letting your fingers grip into his trench coat, taking the time to just affirm the fact that he was there. After three long days, after disappearing, he was finally back. God, you had been so worried.

“So, where have you been?” You asked into his chest. 

He was silent for a while, and at first you had assumed he was just thinking of how to answer you. But when you pulled out of his hug and looked up at him, he was staring down at you impassively, as if he had heard you but had no intention of answering. You blinked a few times, incredulous, before you cleared your throat and spoke again. 

“You’re not going to tell me where you disappeared to for three days?”

He frowned and furrowed his eyebrows, “I didn’t plan to.”

You weren’t quite sure how to respond to him, honestly. Part of you wanted to drop it because you had missed him so desperately and you were ready to drag him into the bedroom and not let go until he forced you to. But the less rational, more stubborn, and angry part of you was understandably upset that he had left you without a word on where he was going and now had the gall to keep you in the dark about it.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or it was the rum in your system, or the fact that you were on your period, but your anger won out on the end. You sighed, pushed yourself off the couch, and reached a finger up to gingerly rub at your temple. You made it a point not to pay him another glance as you cleaned up the math homework on the coffee table and turned off the television. It was petty and childish and goddammit you didn’t care. 

“Where are my things?” 

“The bedroom.” You replied curtly, shoving your homework into your bag and trudging out of the theater and up the stairs. Seto followed behind you, silent, but obviously in a sour mood influenced by your sudden annoyance. You opened the door to the bedroom and set your bag down in the corner of the room, and as you turned your body around toward the door to the bathroom he was standing right in front of you, arms crossed and brow furrowed. 

“Why are you upset?” He asked, clear annoyance in his voice.

“Gee, I wonder.” You muttered back sarcastically. You tried to walk around him but he stepped to the side, blocking your path again. You pursed your lips and bit at the inside of your cheek.

“Avoiding the question is childish,” he said pointedly, “Act like an adult and tell me what’s wrong.” 

Wasn’t it obvious what was wrong? You were upset that he wasn’t telling you where he went, that he was keeping you in the dark about his disappearance. What else could you have possibly been upset about? If he didn’t want to say anything, he should just leave you alone to burn yourself out until you got tired of being angry. 

“What’s wrong is that you’re not telling me where you disappeared to without a word.” You finally groaned, not even bothering to keep the accusatory tone from your voice. 

He furrowed his brown even further, something you had previously imagined was impossible, and stared down at you for a long while. He began to tap his finger on the inside of his elbow, but made no indication that he planned on saying anything at all, as if he assumed you would give up your bad mood just because of his glare. Really, it was just making you angrier. 

“Don’t wanna talk anymore?” You asked sourly, “Then I’m done standing here. Let me take a shower.”

He stood tall over you for another long minute, just glaring down at you. He was probably, rightfully, pissed that you were wasting his time being upset over seemingly nothing. But you were a stubborn asshole, and you were already upset, and you couldn’t help how frustrated you felt. So when he finally stepped aside for you, you quickly brushed past him and into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind you and tossing off all your clothes. You turned on the shower at full-blast, slipped in and underneath the water, and just stood there for a long while thinking. Seto had come home looking so refreshed and calm and finally, after weeks, it was like the stress had left his body. And you had ruined it. 

A wave of emotion washed over you, mostly negative. You felt angry at him for not telling you anything about where he had gone, guilty for making him upset after he had looked so much better, overwhelmed by how lonely you had been the past few days and now no longer had to feel that way. A realization hit you that, after his absence and sudden return, you weren’t sure you could take him doing it to you again. You were certain that you had to spend the rest of your life with him, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to take the loneliness and heartache that had gripped at you the past three days. Maybe that thought should have made you feel warm, or comforted, or happy. 

Under normal circumstances, it probably would have, but another feeling was worming its way into that thought. Burrowing into that little idea, that comfort of accepting that you wanted to spend forever with him, was a paralyzing fear. Yeah, sure, you had probably known for a long time that you wanted to be with Seto for the rest of your life, sometimes you would casually bring up things like ‘When we’re married’ or ‘Don’t wait too long to propose or I might just do it myself’. But there was something darker there now, the thought that, if he could just leave for a few days and not be affected by missing you like this, did he plan to stay with you forever? After just three days you had been so terrified and worried that you hadn’t slept at all; but he was fine, even better than fine, completely refreshed and happy and healthy. 

Guilt, annoyance, anger, sadness, fear, they overwhelmed you. The emotions were probably unwarranted, amplified by your period and rampaging hormones, but they were still eating away at you. You felt terrible and you desperately wanted to apologize to Seto for being so childish, but the warm water felt so nice, and the isolation of the bathroom felt somehow comforting, and more safe than facing your boyfriend whose night you had effectively ruined. You bowed your head and let the water run down your head and into your face, trying to tell yourself you were only crying because of the water in your eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU THOUGHT WE WERE GONNA HAVE A HAPPY CHAPTER AFTER LAST WEEK?
> 
> Joke's on you, I'm all fluffed out. >:D


	8. Civility and Sincerity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL I'M LATE  
> This chapter kicked my ass dudes, and for no particular reason. I just had a hard time writing it for some reason. But uh, it's finally here, so I hope it's worth the wait @-@

That night went about as well as you thought it would, Seto had chided you for acting like a child and you had mostly ignored him and chosen to go to bed while he worked. He didn’t tell you why he had disappeared for three days, you didn’t apologize to him for being in a bad mood, and absolutely nothing was resolved.

The day following went about the same, you didn’t ignore each other but you didn’t go out of your way to spend any more time together than you always did even though you were secretly dying for his affection. You drove to class together on Friday morning, sat next to each other in silence during the lecture, and went your separate ways for work.

As you were sitting in the back room of the little formal boutique you worked at, sewing an invisible zipper onto the back of a gown you had just finished resizing, Chi bounded over to you and plopped herself in the chair next to you. Chi was your co-worker, a tiny little woman two years your senior who was a little too obsessed with Duel Monsters for her own good. She had a short bob of black hair and pretty brown eyes behind black square-frame glasses entirely too big for her face.

“I hear your boyfriend is back in town,” she said excitedly.

Chi was one of the bubbliest people you’d met in Japan, she had no sense of boundaries and could just babble on about any subject for hours on end. It was actually refreshing to have her as your co-worker-- since a lot of your classmates tended to be more reserved and stuck to their friend groups, you didn’t talk to any of them very much. Actually, other than Seto and Mokuba, Chi was about the only person you found yourself having conversations with in this country.

“He came back last night,” you replied, lining up the edge of the zipper with your presser foot and feeding it carefully through the sewing machine.

“He’s doing a press conference today on the new duel academy that’s going to be done in a few years, I really wanted to go see it but the boss said he wouldn’t let me out early,” Chi bemoaned.

“Are you thinking of attending or something? You’re a bit old to go back to high school.” You smirked. Sometimes you thought Chi knew more about Seto’s work life than you did, every time he was giving a press conference or some big game-related announcement, she would talk about it on and on until your shift ended.

“Actually, I was thinking of applying for a teaching position,” she replied, “I did double major in education after all.”

“I thought that was so you could teach sewing, not children’s trading card games.”

“Don’t call it a children’s game!” Chi cried as she began sifting through the box of various threads to find a color that matched her current project. “It’s incredibly complex and strategy-intensive.”

“Where have I heard that before?” You hummed under breath as you pulled the garment from your sewing machine and snipped the loose threads off, “Chi I’ve seen the Kaiba Corp. marketing materials for all things Duel Monsters related—it’s overwhelmingly targeted towards children.”

“But that doesn’t—“

“It’s a card game made and marketed for children, what would you call it?”

Chi huffed, defeated, and looked over your finished zipper for quality assurance. Once she gave you the okay, you set to work hand sewing the lining back onto the gown. Chi insisted upon putting up the Kaiba Corp. press conference while the two of you worked, and you shrugged and allowed her to do whatever she wanted. She seemed a little suspicious of your mood when your boyfriend’s face appeared on the television screen, but she didn’t say anything about it.

You mostly blocked out the press conference by focusing on your work, allowing the sound to merely serve as background noise unless Chi made a comment on it that you were expected to reply to. It was the most you’d heard of your boyfriend’s voice in the past four days, and the fact that he wasn’t talking to you or Mokuba put you in a bad mood.

Speaking of Mokuba, the younger Kaiba was in such a fantastic mood today it was almost enough to be contagious. Almost. When he woke up and you and Seto were already in the kitchen making coffee he jumped about ten feet in the air and nearly tackled his brother in a hug. He was so excited to not be working at Kaiba Corp. that day, he got ready for school in record time and was out the door before you had even finished blowing on your coffee to cool it down.

Mokuba definitely knew where Seto had disappeared to, but had refused to tell you. It seriously annoyed you that the boys were keeping you in the dark about the whole thing, though you focused most of your annoyance on the elder Kaiba. You found it hard to stay mad at Mokuba, especially since he had been just as sad and lonely as you had and especially since he was only keeping quiet to respect his brother’s wishes.

When seven rolled around and marked the end of your shift, you had finished altering a very pretty satin wedding gown for a client, steamed and pressed it, and hung it in one of the store’s garment bags. Chi was in the front talking with your boss when you clocked out and made your way out of the back room. The two of them waved and wished you safe travels back home, and you left the tiny boutique, rain falling down around you and quickly wetting your hoodie. You hadn’t brought an umbrella with you, so you merely shrugged off the cold raindrops, pulled up your hood, and walked around the back to get to your car. 

You checked your phone on the way to see that Natalia was making steaks to celebrate Seto’s return, and you found yourself wondering if she knew where her boss had been those past three days. You knew you were exaggerating, but it felt like everyone knew but you and it was driving you crazy. You cranked the volume in the car and drove back home as slowly as possible, taking a longer route than usual to delay your arrival, if for no other reason than to try to push some of the thoughts from your brain.

By the time you finally rolled into the garage next to the Kaiba mansion and willed yourself out of the car, the rain had mostly stopped, reduced to a mere sprinkling. It was already getting oppressively humid, and you were not looking forward to when it began to warm up more. It was supposed to be an hot spring this year, you had climate change to thank for that, which meant the end of the month, when your school’s fashion show was scheduled, it was going to be impossible keeping all your models from sweating off their makeup.

“You’re home late,” Seto muttered impassively as you entered the kitchen through the back door and stripped your damp hoodie off to hang on the coat rack. You glanced up at him to see him pouring himself a large mug of coffee while Mokuba sat on the bar stool closest to him, watching Natalia finish preparing dinner. 

“I took the scenic route,” you replied vaguely, trying to keep any annoyance or sass from your tone if only for the sake of Mokuba. God, you felt like a parent, not wanting to argue so you didn’t worry your kid. 

“How was work?” Mokuba asked cheerily.

“Work was work,” you shrugged, “How was school?”

“It was great!” Mokuba chirped, “I did my English makeup test after school and I got an A!”

“Wow, congrats,” you grinned and ruffled his mess of hair as you brushed past Seto to grab one of your cherry limeades from the drinks pantry. 

“Thanks! But it’s mostly because of you, you’re a really good tutor!” 

Natalia smiled at you as she prepared your plates for dinner, and you each took one and carried them over to the dining room across the hall. You placed your plates on the dark maple table, long enough to seat fifteen people despite the fact Seto didn’t have any real reason to have that many guests. He didn’t host any parties, well other than Mokuba’s eighteenth birthday, but that had been less a dinner event and more of a very loud dance party. 

Seto didn’t talk to you much during dinner, actually he didn’t really talk to either of you, staying mostly silent while he listened to Mokuba ramble on about school. You kept your mood as bright as possible by listening to how happy Mokuba was after how miserable he’d been in his brother’s absence. It was surprisingly easy to ignore your boyfriend’s presence in favor of making light hearted conversation with someone much more eager to talk to you. 

“...So then we went downtown and we took photos of my classmate’s friend who’s a model and I got some really pretty shots!”

“You dragged your model friend out into the rain and she was okay with it?”

“Well it didn’t start raining until we were already out there,” Mokuba replied defensively, “But once we got there she let us take pictures!”

“I’m surprised you didn’t ruin your very expensive camera equipment,” you remarked.

“My camera equipment is waterproof, why do you think it’s so expensive?” He grinned.

You dismissed him with a flick of your wrist and a smile, glancing over at Seto to notice him staring at you. The moment your eyes locked, you quickly looked away and returned your gaze to Mokuba, who hadn’t noticed since he was much too focused on his steak. You tried not to look at Seto any more afterward, not wanting to cause another awkward moment for the sake of the younger Kaiba. 

You excused yourself from the dinner table when you got a call from your old college roommate (the one who really liked cars), who had heard about your current relationship with Seto and had been trying desperately to ‘reconnect’ ever since. Supposedly, she was just trying to be friendly because oh gosh, she’d been such a terrible roommate and just wanted to get back on the right foot with you. You were pretty sure it was because she was in financial trouble and wanted you to help her, which you were a little too petty to do if you were being honest. Plus, she was annoying as all hell.

You tried to end the conversation quickly, and began heading back to the dining room as soon as you finally got her to cut the fake sincerity. If you had a dime for every person who had tried to weave their way onto your good side after you started dating Seto... well you would at least have a solid start on a rainy day fund. When you almost reached the threshold to the dining room, you could hear the concerned voice of Mokuba whining from inside.

“Is everything okay between you two?”

Despite better judgement that told you it was rude to eavesdrop, you’d never really been a polite person had you? You stood quietly in place and listened in on the Kaiba brothers’ private conversation. You wondered how Mokuba had picked up on the tension between you and Seto, though admittedly he had always been pretty good at noticing things like that.

“What do you mean?” Seto replied coolly, but even you could hear the reluctance in his voice. The man was awful at hiding his feelings.

“Don’t ‘what do you mean’ me. She’s never this quiet unless something’s wrong, and you’ve been ignoring her all night.” Mokuba huffed.

“Everything’s fine, Mokuba.”

“Honestly,” Mokuba continued, completely ignoring his brother’s attempt at half-assed reassurance, “I thought when you can home you two would be all over each other—“

“Mokuba.”

“—What with how miserable she’d been while you were gone. Not to mention how she was trying to act all cool and mature for me—“

“Mokuba, that’s enough.”

“— I just don’t understand why she seems so mad at you—“

“Mokuba!”

You held your breath in your throat at your boyfriend’s raised voice and the sound of silverware shaking against the table as he slammed his fist down onto it. Tense silence rang over the mansion. Natalia had drifted to the other side of the threshold to the dining room with a tray of dessert in her hands and was glancing over at you, worry painted all over her face. The two of you stared at each other silently, neither willing to walk into the dining room, until Mokuba’s unwavering voice broke the silence. He didn’t sound scared or worried, the way you felt right now, in fact he sounded more frustrated than anything.

“You didn’t tell her, did you?”

Silence.

“ _Nii-sama_ , you can’t be serious. No wonder she’s upset, why haven’t you told her?”

“It’s not that simple.” Seto muttered angrily.

“Not that simple? You can’t keep her in the dark about it forever—“

“Not forever.”

More silence. You watched Natalia’s face contort uncomfortably as she struggled to hold back a sneeze.

“Do you not trust her?”

“Of course I trust her,” Seto scoffed, and admittedly your chest swelled a little at how easily he said it. You had to remind yourself that you were still pissed at him. “It’s just not something that can be… easily explained.”

Okay, before, you had been worried before about your boyfriend’s sudden disappearance and unknown whereabouts, but now you were in full-blown panic. Something that can’t be easily explained? What could possibly have happened that he couldn’t explain to you, considering all the crazy shit you’d already experienced with him? Was he in danger? Was his health failing? Did he secretly work for the mob?

Natalia had finally walked into the dining room with dessert after it was clear the brother’s conversation had come to an end, and when Seto asked where you had disappeared to, she easily covered for you by saying you had gone to the bathroom after your phone call. As she passed by you on her way out, she gave you a wink and a reassuring smile, which you tried to return despite the new, increasingly insane conspiracy theories about your boyfriend’s trip to who-knows-where that were popping into your head. You waited a moment before re-joining the brothers at the table, wiping your face of any indication that you’d heard them.

The three of you ate dessert in forced, uncomfortable silence, though it seemed like the brother’s hadn’t really noticed your reasons for sharing in the tension since they were so focused on their previous conversation. Mokuba looked crestfallen, and disappointed in his elder brother, and he kept throwing you apologetic looks which you returned with shrugs and smiles. Seto refused to look either of you in the eye, and had since pulled his phone out to work, something he generally made a point not to do at the dinner table on the rare evenings he even came home to eat with the two of you.

Once your plates were cleared, Mokuba said something about doing some photo editing and retired to his room for the night, while Seto disappeared into his office to work. You decided if everyone else was going to be productive tonight, you might as well work on one of your garments for the fashion show, and you went up to your sewing room. You put in some earbuds, blasted some music as loud as you could stand, and worked through most of the night paying no mind to the time. You still had a lot to work on for the fashion show, but you were working as a good pace all things considered.

It wasn’t until you received a text from your father, a photo of some food he was grilling up for an early dinner, that you realized how late it was. Well, how early it was would be a better description, it was past six in the morning. You’d worked through the entire night, so caught up in the details you were sewing onto your garments you hadn’t even thought about Seto, or the argument between the brothers earlier in the day. It felt so refreshing to not dwell on it all, honestly, you were in higher spirits than you’d been in almost a week. You turned off your music and set down your work, hanging your garment onto a dress form to return to later, before setting off down the hallway toward Seto’s office. His door was closed, which meant he was probably inside.

You put your ear to the door and listened for a moment to be sure he wasn’t on the phone, and when you heard nothing, you opened it and headed inside. Seto didn’t look up at you, but his fingers paused on the keys so you knew he’d noticed you. He was wearing the same clothes from last night, his hair was a mess from running his fingers through it, and the dark circles under his eyes that had disappeared on his three-day journey were already coming back.

“You didn’t sleep either, huh?” You hummed.

He glanced up at you, looking over you intently for a moment, before he sighed and removed his fingertips from the keyboard. He used them to pinch at the bridge of his nose and turned his chair to fully face you, clicking his tongue as he thought of what to say.

“I have a lot to catch up on,” he said flatly, “What are you doing up?”

“Sewing,” you replied, “Stuff for the fashion show.”

“That’s not like you.”

“Pulling an all-nighter?”

A smirk cracked on his lips, “Pulling an all-nighter when it isn’t the day before your due date.”

You chuckled into your hand and walked over to his desk, standing behind his chair to look over what he was working on. You pushed the fact that you were still concerned about where he had been from your mind, at least while he seemed to be in a little better of a mood. Mostly you just felt better after focusing on work for nearly twelve hours, and you found it easier to ignore your frustration with him considering how tired you were.

“Are you going in to the office today?”

“I don’t have any meetings,” Seto replied, “So unless I’m needed I was planning to work from home.”

You hummed into the back of his head in response, watching him scroll through his email to make sure he’d answered everything from the night before. No one was coming in until eight or nine, it had been pretty chill since the PAX rush so neither Mokuba nor Seto had been enforcing early hours and late nights of work.

“Wanna take a nap with me?”

He tilted his head up to look at you, taking his hand off the scroll wheel and regarding you almost curiously. After how tense the two of you had been with each other all day yesterday, it was weird that you were now being civil.

“Fine.”

The fact that he wasn’t arguing was even weirder.

The two of you walked silently to the bedroom, Seto setting an alarm on his phone and you keeping your gaze straight ahead. It wasn’t an uncomfortable walk, but it was obvious you were both trying to push away your feelings. It was easier for you now after having pulled an all-nighter, you hadn’t had time to stew over the brothers’ conversation while you worked. You wondered if it was the same for Seto; part of you hoped it wasn’t.

After getting ready for bed, the two of you snuggled beneath the covers and Seto made it a point to pull you into his arms. He held you tightly, almost too tightly, against his chest and used his fingertips to run along your bare spine. He was overcompensating, but it wasn’t unwanted attention by any means. It felt a lot better after how you two had completely ignored each other the night prior.

But he still didn’t tell you where he’d disappeared to.


	9. The Pharaoh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit of a shorter chapter, but FINALLY CONFLICT RESOLUTION PRAISE BE.

You were working on a project for your fashion marketing class, due in two weeks, that was supposed to be a group effort with one of your classmates. The girl was notorious in your major for not pulling her own weight for assignments, and needless to say, you’d been left with a majority of the work. You were pretty focused on the poster board presentation in front of you, if only due to the anger you felt for your group mate, who you were absolutely going to throw under the bus come grading.

Seto knocked at the open door to your studio once before letting himself in, staying near the doorway as he eyed you quietly. The man still hadn’t told you where he’d disappeared to near a week ago, but frankly with everything going on right now you didn’t have the energy to keep worrying about it. Yes, of course you wanted to know what had happened, but he didn’t seem to have any inclination to talk to you about it and you had just about given up on asking. If he wasn’t going to tell you, he wasn’t going to tell you, and no amount of driving yourself crazy over it was going to fix it. At least, that was what you kept telling yourself every time you thought about your boyfriend’s utter and infuriating lack of communication skills.

“Evening,” you greeted tiredly.

“What are you doing?”

“Working,” you sighed, “School project. Dumbass partner. Lots to do. Ugh.”

“I see.”

His eyes continued to follow you as you walked around the room between your laptop, your poster board, and a pattern you were drafting for the project. He made no motion to come closer to you or say anything for a long while. Rather, he looked like he was thinking on what to say, if anything. You chose to ignore him for the time being and focus on your work, figuring that if he wanted to have a conversation he’d eventually initiate one. 

“You’ve stopped asking me about my… trip.” Seto finally muttered as he watched you set down your poster board and walk across the room to your laptop.

“I don’t need to know,” you replied dismissively, scanning over the grading rubric for your project and tapping your finger against the table.

He huffed and walked over to you, leaning over the table a little to look over your shoulder at the rubric you were reading. You tried to ignore him, and the conversation as a whole, in favor of reading over your assignment. The more you thought about it, the more you absolutely did want to know where he’d disappeared to, but you were trying to tell yourself that if you didn’t think about it the desire wasn’t as strong. 

You wondered why he was bringing it up now, and why it seemed like your sudden disinterest in his whereabouts was upsetting him. Maybe if you continued to act like the whole ordeal wasn’t bothering you anymore, he’d be more inclined to tell you about it. Playing “hard to get” wasn’t really your shtick, but you were willing to try it out if only out of curiosity.

“You don’t need to know?” 

“Nope,” you confirmed.

“Why?” He was getting annoyed.

You merely shrugged, keeping your face turned away from him for fear of making a face that would give away your impromptu tactic. You wiggled away from your spot between him and the table and paced back to your poster board, attaching some swatches of fabric to one of the corners in the most aesthetically pleasing way you could come up with. 

“You know,” Seto said coolly, “I am the president of a multi-billion dollar corporation.”

_Oh lord here we go._ “Are you? I had no idea.”

“Which means,” he continued, pointedly ignoring your sarcastic remark, “I’ve made quite a few business deals in my time.” 

“Was this just a segway to brag about your successful company or…?”

Seto was quickly at your side, leaning his weight onto his hand which he’d set on the table next to you. He put the fingertips of his other hand beneath your chin and gently moved your face so you were looking up at him, which you would have found a lot sexier had he not had an irritating smirk painted on his lips. 

“You are not the first person to use this tactic on me.”

You thought you did a pretty good job hiding the fact that you’d been found out from your face, considering you successfully fought an eye roll and a disappointed lip-purse. Clearly, Seto did not think as highly of your attempt, since he removed his fingers from your chin and crossed his arms over his chest, looking quite pleased with himself. 

“So,” he began again as his smirk faded as quickly as it had appeared, continuing to press the issue much to your annoyance, “Why have you suddenly given up on asking me?”

_Why have you suddenly started hounding me about it?_ You thought with a silent groan, setting down your poster board and turning your full attention to him since you were, apparently, not going to get any more work done while he was here. 

“Look, Seto, if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t want to tell me. No amount of me pestering you is going to change that.” You hadn’t meant for it to sound as harsh and dismissive as it had.

He stared down at you with a cold, hard gaze, and began tapping his index finger against his forearm. For a long while, the two of you just looked at each other in uncomfortable silence, with you mostly just waiting for him to either tell you what he really came to talk to you about, or leave you to finish up the first part of your project so you could go to bed. 

He opted for the later, finally giving a stiff nod and turning on his heels before heading out of your studio. You took the opportunity to admire how his pants hugged his lower body before you returned your attention back to your work. You wondered what exactly had gotten into him to bring up a topic he’d been staunchly avoiding for a week, and why nothing had come of it. You tried to shrug it off and work without the distraction, turning some music on and sighing as you looked over the pattern for the garment you were presenting in two weeks. 

 

It was midnight when you’d finally finished working and decided it was time for bed. You had class early the next morning, so if you went to sleep much later you’d not only ruin your REM cycles, but end up exhausted in class. You set an alarm on your phone on your way to the bedroom, and upon opening the door you spied Seto sitting on the bed, typing away at his laptop. 

It was rare for him to work in bed, usually he chose to stay locked away in his home office until the need for sleep overcame him. You shut the door behind you and looked him over carefully, trying to figure out just what was going on with him tonight. As you were about to head into the bathroom to get ready for bed, his voice snapped you from your thoughts.

“We need to talk.”

You turned away from the bathroom to see his hard gaze on you, fingers laced tightly together on top of his now shut laptop. You cocked your head slightly, moving to the bed to set your phone down on your pillows and climbing over his legs to sit down next to him. 

“Okay,” you said calmly. 

You watched him move his laptop off his lap and into the drawer of his bedside table, then smooth out the covers on the bed idly while he, presumably, thought on how to start whatever conversation he thought needed to be had. 

“I should tell you where I went.” He said, a resigned tone to his voice, “You’ve been… more than patient with me.”

You nodded quietly, trying to keep yourself from getting too excited. For a week now you'd been driving yourself crazy with worry and frustration over this very topic, and finally you were going to get some answers. You kept any overly enthusiastic emotions from your face and allowed him to gather his thoughts, watching his sapphire gaze wander around the bedroom before finally settling on your face.

“It’s a somewhat unbelievable story to an outsider,” he warned.

You nodded again. It couldn't possibly be that unbelievable, and you liked to think yourself quite open-minded.

He sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose and shaking his head, as if he couldn’t believe he was telling you the story, “All right, where should I start? Several years ago, Yugi’s body was a host to the spirit of an ancient Egyptian Pharaoh named Atem. The man was an excellent duelist, the best I’d ever faced, one of the only people who could challenge me and bring out the best of my skills.”

You blinked incredulously, prompting him to pause his tale and regard you with a raised eyebrow that said he was expecting you wouldn’t believe him. But you weren't surprised because of that. Somehow, him praising another human being was more weird than the whole spirit-living-in-Yugi’s-body thing. When you didn’t make any attempt to interrupt him or ask any questions, he resumed the story.

“When we were about halfway through our third year of high school, we took a trip to Egypt to put his spirit to rest. Well, I went for a separate reason and somehow ended up roped into the whole mess with Yugi and the rest of the Geek Squad, but that’s an entirely different story. In any case, Atem’s spirit returned to the dimension he had come from, despite the fact that he still owed me a rematch.”

“As in a duel rematch?” 

“Precisely. Which is why I created the Kaiba Corporation space station to rebuild the Millennium Puzzle, in order to resurrect the spirit and reclaim the glory I deserved.”

You really, _really_ wanted to interrupt Seto’s very passionate speech and point out just how fucking ridiculous it was that he built a space station to bring back an ancient Egyptian spirit for the sole purpose of dueling him. But truthfully, you wanted to hear the rest of the story, so you kept your snide remarks to yourself.

“I hosted a tournament in order to get the remaining two pieces from the puzzle from Yugi and another man, Diva, who was also in possession of a cube which he used to... send people between dimensions.”

_Oh good, it gets weirder._

“There’s more to that story, as well, but it’s for another day. Returning to the topic at hand, putting together the puzzle didn’t bring Atem back, so I had to come up with a different solution. I’ll try to explain this in the most simplistic way possible, as the details would likely be too much for you to understand.”

The urge to interrupt him for being a condescending dick was pretty high, but you managed to fight it.

“Using the cube Diva had left behind, I invented a sort of way to traverse into the dimension inside of the Millenium Puzzle, where Atem’s memories reside. I can transport myself into that world. That is where I went.”

You stared at him quietly for a while, the wheels in your brain turning so quickly as you tried to figure out what, exactly, he had just said to you. This was a lot to process, and even if you believed all of it, you didn't exactly understand on... well, on any level really. 

“Okay back up,” you shook your head, “You used a mystical dimension-traveling cube and an ancient Egyptian artifact containing a spirit’s memories in order to… time travel into them?”

“In the most simple of terms, yes.”

“So you time traveled into a dead man’s memories in order to play a card game with him?”

“Yes.”

“I knew you were eccentric, but I didn’t expect you to go so far just to duel your best friend, good lord.” You mumbled.

“I wouldn’t call him my best friend,” Seto frowned. 

“Honey, you built an elevator into space, invented time travel, and broke the fucking laws of physics just to see the guy. That’s a best friend.”

He stared at you for a while with no indication that he was going to argue with you, instead he shrugged it off and opted to change the subject, “You’re surprisingly willing to accept all of this.”

“I mean, I don't really understand most of it, honestly. But I believe you’re telling the truth, so that’s all the proof I need,” you shrugged, “Yeah the concept of time travel--”

“It’s more accurate to call it dimension travel.” He corrected. 

“Whatever. It’s kind of crazy, but if anyone was going to invent it, it would be you.”

He raised an eyebrow at your compliment, tapping his finger against his leg as he watched you bite at the bottom of your lip in thought. Processing everything he’d just told you was becoming quite the chore, not because you didn’t believe what he was saying, honestly if someone as logical as Seto could talk so calmly about ghosts and spiritual possession and all that you could believe it. No, it was more because you thought it was just so fucking _stupid_ that all of this came from a children’s card game. 

“I’m… surprised.” Seto muttered, snapping you from your thoughts. 

“By?”

“You’re not asking a lot of questions, or getting overly excited.”

“I mean, I don’t want to push you into answering anything you don’t want to.” 

"That's very thoughtful of you." He glanced away and muttered.

"Thank you. I think." 

He eyed you, and after a moment of silence he forced himself to speak again. “I suppose you have always been a fairly rational person. Usually.”

“My period doesn’t count,” you grinned playfully.

He hummed and scooted off the bed, disappearing into the bathroom, presumably as a way to end the conversation. You followed after him and both of you brushed your teeth in silence, you taking the opportunity to try and puzzle together exactly what he had just told you. You were, understandably, more confused about the entire situation that you had been before, but at least now you (sort of) knew where he had disappeared to for three days. And that alone was comforting enough for you to be in a good mood. 

You allowed him to pull you into a comfortable spooning position when you got into bed, and smiled completely contently for the first time all week when he kissed the back of your head and whispered good night. You remembered to plug in your phone to charge, and when you glanced at the clock on your phone absently when the screen lit up, your couldn’t help but inwardly chuckle to yourself.

Well, your REM cycles were fucked.


	10. Mokuba Kaiba

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SAD BOYS
> 
> So since it's not really canon what happened to Kaiba's birth parents, I've kind of taken some creative liberties here. I've always been a fan of the theory that their mom died from/right after Mokuba's birth, but I wanted to do something even more depressing and terrible with their dad because... you know. Drama. So get out your tissues, time to feel terrible for precious Mokuba.

“This is ridiculous! If you can’t do your job properly, I’ll find someone who will!” Seto roared from behind his desk before slamming down the phone receiver and letting out a long, irritated sigh. You ignored the outburst for the most part, keeping yourself focused on the math homework in front of you, one hand punching numbers into a calculator while the other tapped rhythmically against the small table you worked on. Mokuba, on the other hand, look uncharacteristically upset with the way his brother verbally attacked the poor soul on the other end of the call. 

“What happened?” He asked with a frown. 

“What didn’t happen?” Seto replied with exasperation before taking a long, frustrated sip of his black coffee. “Not only did an entire case of parts for the new Souzouryoku get delivered to the the wrong factory, but the shipment supervisor _accepted_ the delivery." He spoke so pointedly, you assumed you were supposed to know exactly why this was such a catastrophic event that it prompted him to have a fucking meltdown. 

“Can’t you just have them delivered to the right factory then?” You asked innocently, only half-listening to the conversation while you jotted down the answer to one of your problems. 

When deadly silence fell over the office, it took you a moment to look up from your work, only to find Seto staring at you with a chilling mix of murderous and incredulous daggers. The way his lips pursed and his blue eyes stared right through you immediately made you feel stupid for your comment. 

“Of course that’s what I had them do, I know how to handle my own company.” He shot icily, and it was the first time in a long while his words had made you feel so foolish, “This mistake will cost us days of work, and set the release back even further. Do you understand what that means?”

You had no idea to respond to the way he was talking down at you. Normally, you would be annoyed, and wave him off with a sarcastic remark, but right now you felt an uncharacteristically heavy feeling in your chest, and the only response you could offer was to stare at him. Mokuba sighed and looked like he was about to speak, but he was cut off by his brother lifting a hand in the air and glaring between the two of you. 

“It means the company loses money. Every day the Souzouryoku is delayed, profits drop. Stock shares drops. Our shareholders are furious.”

You weren’t quite sure how to react to the fury being hurled your way, mostly because you couldn’t tell if he was directing it at you or if you were merely in the way of it. Either way, being in the line of fire for his anger was not only getting on your nerves, it was making you feel an unsettled way you hadn’t felt since long before the two of you began dating. Worse yet, you couldn’t quite figure out why you felt so small.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, dropping your gaze back to the notebook in front of you and setting your pencil tip down on the paper. You had nothing to write, but the potential to allow the graphite to glide on the surface of the paper felt better than the alternative nothingness. 

You caught the way Mokuba cast a worried gaze to you in response to your sudden behavior, but you had nothing to offer him in the way of an answer. You felt just as foreign to the feeling as he did. 

You wondered offhandedly if the reason had anything to do with Seto disappearing into… what had he called it? The Pharaoh’s memories? You weren’t quite sure where the thought had come from, or why, but as quickly as it entered your mind you dismissed it and returned your focus to the work in front of you. You felt much better, much more stable, pushing away the feelings and looking over the numbers and equations you had left. At the very least, they were problems you could solve. 

You worked on homework tirelessly, until the sun had set and left only the blackness of night peering through the wall of windows that was your boyfriend’s backdrop. Mokuba had long since completed his own school work, and had fallen asleep against your shoulder on the couch the two of you occupied, his wild hair strewn across his face in absolute chaos. The clock on your phone informed you that it was closing in on eight-thirty, and you did your best to pack up your belongings into your sturdy tote bag without waking the boy sleeping on you. 

It wasn’t until you slid your textbook into the bag that Mokuba finally stirred and blearily pushed himself off you, muttering an apology and asking what time it was. He watched his brother scowl at the computer monitor for a moment, before willing his body off the couch and walking over to the desk. 

“We should go home,” Mokuba offered groggily.

“You two go ahead. I have a lot of work to do.” Seto replied dismissively.

“ _Nii-sama_ ,” Mokuba began, but he was silenced from a low angry growl from the elder Kaiba, one that meant he was about another three words away from blowing up in both your faces. 

You slung the bag over your shoulder and began headed for the private elevator, gesturing for Mokuba to follow you. He did so wordlessly, a frustrated scowl planted firmly on his usually happy features.

“Are you coming home tonight?” You asked. 

“Not likely.” Seto replied shortly. 

“Shall I pick you up for class in the morning?” 

“Don’t bother,” Seto huffed, clearly annoyed that you were interrupting his concentration, “I have more important things to worry about than school right now.”

You cringed away from his tone, and though you debated offering to bring him lunch on your way to work, you figured he would probably kill you for speaking to him any more at the moment. You decided you’d just send him a text in the morning as the elevator door closed, leaving you and Mokuba together in uncomfortable silence. 

You had walked to the office from class, so you rode back to the mansion in Mokuba’s flashy sportscar, his radio blasting so loudly you couldn’t hear yourself think. Not that you really wanted to, the only thing you could think about was how angry Seto had been, and how weird you felt recoiling from it when it didn’t usually phase you. You didn’t like the unsettling feeling it left in the pit of your stomach, or how you didn’t know where it had come from in the first place, so you chose to push it to the deepest recesses of your mind and think on it another day. 

Instead you focused on Mokuba, who was so agitated and disconsolate by the time the two of you got home it made you worried. When he made a beeline for the freezer the second he entered the kitchen and pulled out an entire pint of cookie dough ice cream, along with two silver spoons, you knew you were in for a long night. You joined him at the kitchen island and took one of the spoons from his hand, digging into the cold treat and taking three bites before he finally spoke.

“I don’t want that to be me.” He said so quietly you weren’t exactly sure if he’d meant to say it aloud. 

“What do you mean?” You asked softly. Of course, you already knew exactly what he meant, you knew he was talking about Seto. More specifically, the Seto that was the CEO of Kaiba Corporation, the Seto who drove himself mad over his company, the Seto who worked tirelessly day and night for the sake of his business. 

“I don't… I don't want to take over Kaiba Corp.” 

You put a bite of ice cream into your mouth and held the spoon on your tongue quietly, allowing the younger Kaiba to collect his thoughts. When Mokuba got this way, all serious and melancholy, it was best to stay quiet and just let him talk until he asked you for advice. 

“I know _Nii-sama_ expects me to take over the company, I even put it on my career plan form for school. I just…” 

He shoved a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and hummed in frustration for a long time, just staring at the fridge across the room. Eventually, he turned his head to you and furrowed his brow, worry plastered all over his face. 

“I don't want to grow up to be so… angry. And stressed.” 

He frowned down at the ice cream and put the spoon down on the counter, before returning his gaze up to you. His face contorted into such a sad, tear-jerking look that you nearly switched into big-sister mode and cuddled the poor kid on the spot. 

“Do you think he's happy?” 

“Oh Sweetheart,” you lilted sadly, thinking over his question as you watched him play with a strand of his hair. It was something you thought about often, if your boyfriend was happy or if he just had rare, happy moments. If he ran the company so tirelessly because he actually enjoyed it, or if it was just out of a sense of responsibility. Was it possible to be happy and as stressed as he was at the same time?

“I don't know,” you finally admitted. Clearly, it wasn't the answer Mokuba was looking for, because he cast his sad gaze downward and balled hit fist up on his jeans. 

“I can't do it,” he said decisively, “I can't run the company like he does. I can't be unhappy like that until I retire… or die from a heart attack. I just can't.” 

“What do you want to do?” 

“I want to be an artist. A photographer.” 

You'd thought as much. You knew Mokuba loved photography. You placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, allowing him a moment to breathe before you spoke again. 

“You should do what makes you happy. If that means asking Seto to look for someone else to take over the company someday, then it'll work out.” 

When Mokuba next spoke, his voice wavered and nearly cracked, “What if he hates me?” 

“Sweetheart you know your brother could never hate you.” 

“What if…” his little voice choked half way through his thought, and your heart about broke into a thousand tiny pieces when a tear rolled down his cheek. “What if he resents me and he--" he hiccuped a lump in his throat and another tear fell from the other eye, “--and this is the reason that finally-- that makes him-- makes him abandon me--"

You scooted your bar stool closer so you were sitting inches away, and scooped him into a hug so he was sobbing an incoherent slew of words into the crook of your neck. He sniffled and gulped and let big, wet tears soak into the shoulder of your top, and you took to shushing him and stroking his hair. 

“Mokuba, Sweetheart, listen to me,” you said firmly, “Seto to would never ever abandon you. He would never hate you. He loves and adores you and wants nothing more than your happiness.” 

The boy could barely form a coherent reply to your reassurance, between his gasps for air and loud, sniffly attempts to keep the snot in his nose. You held him and allowed him to get it out of his system, making little hums and comforting noises into the top of his head as you looked around the kitchen. The top of the ice cream had started to melt, leaving a wet, shiny sheen to the surface. Maybe you’d make a milkshake with it once Mokuba calmed down to cheer him up. 

“How do you know?” Mokuba finally choked, muffled by how his mouth was pressed into your shoulder. “What if he just-- feels responsible for me? And he-- he's just taking care of me until-- until--" 

“Mokuba you hush that kind of talk,” you chided, “You know he loves you. You're his whole world. Why would he ever abandon you?” 

Mokuba, for the most part, had started to calm down by the time you finished. His sobs had turned into a weak flow of tears and ragged breaths, and he was clutching at the back of your shirt as a grounding exercise. 

“Did _Nii-sama_ ever tell you what happened to our parents? Our real parents?” He asked weakly.

“No.” 

Mokuba sniffled a few times before he moved his head so he could talk more easily, no longer muffled by your shoulder. He used one of his hands to reach up and wipe some of the tears from his face, and you continued to run your fingers through his wild mess of locks until he was ready to speak again between little gasps for air. 

“After I was born, our mom had to take some pretty heavy medication-- I don't really know all the details but I guess she had a bad reaction to them and got really sick.” Mokuba stifled another wave of tears and sniffles before continuing.

“Our dad… he really loved mom. When she died he fell apart. I don't remember any of it, I was really young but I know _Nii-sama_ remembers--” He wiped a big tear from the corner of his eye, “--He wouldn’t tell me what exactly happened for a long time, so I dug up his records-- and he had to be put on some pretty heavy anti-depressants. But he-- he blamed me for her death.” 

“Oh Mokuba you know that isn't true, right?” 

The fact that he didn't respond to your question made your heart lurch. 

“That's why-- we went to live with our godparents until they abandoned us too. _Nii-sama_ refused to let our dad just send me to live with them.” 

You felt absolutely terrible to hear that the Kaiba boys had gone through so much at such a young age. Mokuba growing up getting abandoned time and time again, no wonder he was afraid Seto would eventually do the same. No children should have to go through everything these boys did, especially not being blamed for their mother's death. You understood mental illness was at play, but that didn't stop you from wanting to scream your head off at their biological father for putting the boys through hell. You pushed the thought away and kept your voice low and comforting, hoping your murderous intent didn't convey in your words. 

“Isn't that enough proof that Seto loves you?” You asked softly. 

“I…” Mokuba hesitated and fought a lump in his throat to no avail, and he sounded like he was going to start sobbing again. “That doesn't mean he doesn't resent me. If I hadn't-- if I hadn't been born he could have had a happy life--" 

“Mokuba.” 

“He would have never-- Gozaburo would never have--" 

“Mokuba stop.” 

“ _Nii-sama_ wouldn't be so stressed-- he could be normal and happy and-- and I wouldn't be here to bother him and--" 

“Mokuba,” you raised your voice and spoke firmly, pulling him away from your body to look at his tear and snot soaked face. His eyes darted up to yours, seemingly snapping out of his trance. “Honey, Sweetheart, stop. Stop it right now. This is not your fault, do you hear me?” 

“But--" 

“Your brother loves you more than anything in the world. He would happily do anything for you, not because you're a burden to him, but because you are his entire life. I've never seen a bond stronger than the two of you have.” 

“But he--" 

“No buts. Listen to me, you are not at fault for your mother's death. You are not at fault for your father's mental illness. You are not at fault for your shitty godparents or your stepfather or any of it. Do you understand me?” 

Mokuba whimpered under your firm stare, but didn't say anything. 

“Assuming your brother resents you only serves to lessen all the things he has done for you. Everything he does is for you, do you think he would work so hard for you if he didn't absolutely adore you?” 

Those words seemed to finally have some impact on the younger Kaiba, and another, sad whimper escaped his throat. 

“Do you?”

“No,” he finally admitted. 

“Do you think he would have fought so hard to take over Kaiba Corp. if not to take care of you and give you a good life?”

“I-- I guess not.”

“Then how could you think he resents you?”

Mokuba’s bottom lip quivered as he rubbed one of his eyes, the whites of which had turned a dull red from all his crying. You ignored the snot on the cupid’s bow of his upper lip (and the snot that was probably all over your nice new blouse) and kept your eyes on his so he couldn’t avoid your gaze. 

“Do you… do you think he’ll forgive me?” He whimpered. 

“Forgive you for what, honey?”

“For not wanting to take over the company. I… I want to go to art school.”

Honestly? You had no idea exactly how he was going to react at first, with how… well, unpredictable he was. You couldn’t see him being angry with Mokuba, or telling him no. Seto was a rash, callous idiot sometimes, but what it came to his little brother he wanted nothing more than his happiness. Even if he could be strict about some things, you never seen Seto be any less than a loving, doting brother when it came to Mokuba, even if he had a hard time showing it, and even if you were the only one who saw it. 

“Ultimately, Seto wants you to be happy.” You said confidently.

“Do you think he’ll be disappointed?” Mokuba sniffled. He seemed like he had accepted that he needed to tell his brother, and he looked a lot better than he had a few sobbing minutes ago. After a long, good night's sleep and a serious discussion with the elder Kaiba, you were certain he would be back to his chipper self in no time at all. 

“He might be disappointed,” you admitted, “But he would never be disappointed in you. You know that, right?” 

Mokuba nodded in agreement, for the first time that night, and again rubbed at his eyes. After a moment, he wiggled off the bar stool and grabbed a napkin from the counter, before wiping at his slightly dampened face and blowing his stuffy nose. He went through three napkins before he was satisfied, then offered you one for your shirt. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed as you pressed the napkin against the fabric of your blouse and felt wetness seep through the paper. You’d probably just throw the thing in the wash, take a hot shower, and pretend you weren’t covered in Mokuba snot. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” you said with a soft smile, “Do you feel better?”

“Yeah… Thank you.” Mokuba put the top to the ice cream back on and tossed it into the freezer. “I think I’m gonna go to bed early, I’m tired.”

“Okay kiddo,” you ruffled his mess of hair as he passed you on his way out of the kitchen, “Good night.”

“Night.”

You tossed the napkin into the trash beneath the kitchen island and sighed, stifling a yawn of your own as you reached for your phone. You wondered if you should call Seto and tell him about anything you’d just talked about, but decided to respect Mokuba’s privacy and let the two work it out themselves. Still, you felt terrible that the poor kid had kept all that fear bottled up inside him for who knew how long. Thinking he was better off not being born? Never would you have thought such a sweet, happy kid could be harboring such despondent feelings. 

You got off your own bar stool and headed up the imperial staircase to the bedroom, stripping yourself of your new blouse and immediately tossing it into the hamper, along with the rest of your clothes. You ran a hot bath, tied up your hair, and plunged yourself into the bubbly water with a content sigh. You scrubbed your shoulder first, then the rest of your body, and allowed your muscles to relax in the warmth surrounding you and let your mind go blank. The bath was so relaxing, and you were so mentally exhausted from the talk you’d had with the younger Kaiba that you nearly fell asleep more than once in the eucalyptus-scented water.

Maybe Mokuba had the right idea, maybe it was time for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He is just a sad baby.
> 
> So after the depression that was that chapter, I have some happier news: next chapter is the one you've all been waiting for. Delicious smut. I figure after all the drama and sadness y'all deserve some sexy times. So y'all can look forward to that!
> 
> Anywhoooooo let me know what you thought about this chapter! I'd actually really like feedback on this one because I kind of just went off when I was writing and I hope it came across properly.


	11. Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter it almost 7k words, and it's half smut half fluff. Uhhhh I started writing and then I just... kept going. I'm kind of afraid the smut half it too short and focused on foreplay but I kinda wanted it to feel like a cute happy first time? I dont even know if i like it very much, so hopefully you guys like it! 
> 
> If you're not into smut you could totally skip this chapter and not miss anything, I promise. Or, just read the first half of it and skip the smut.

Just over one year after the two of you began dating, a few days before Christmas, marked the day you’d both lost your virginity. Sometimes, when you thought on it, you would muse about how big of a feat it was to get the president and CEO of the world’s largest gaming corporation in bed with you. Well, it wasn’t exactly a bed, but the saying still stood. Occasionally you’d joke about it (or, more often, flirt with him about it) and consider it a badge of honor to be such a powerful man’s first time. You liked the idea of being so important to him that you were the first person he’d been with, even though the notion was romantic and silly and Seto liked to think of it as such. The story of how it happened, however, was one of your favorites. 

The first year you’d been dating had been relatively tame, honestly, mostly because of how busy your schedules were. But the two of you had been plenty intimate with each other, you’d discovered that your boyfriend had, at the very least, the sexual appetite you’d expect from a twenty-year-old man. He was an excellent kisser, his fingertips wandered your body in the most teasing ways, and he learned very quickly all the places that made you squirm beneath him. 

Seto had gotten you naked on a small handful of occasions, though the one time it threatened to progress any further than foreplay, he’d been interrupted by a very urgent phone call. After that, there never seemed to be a good time to continue the sexual escapade. Finals week snuck up on you and left you exhausted, Seto had to deal with the company’s holiday sales and releases, and before you knew it, your anniversary had come and gone and it was nearing Christmas. 

You weren’t exactly looking forward to the holiday since you wouldn’t be going back to the States to spend it with your family, but at least you’d have the Kaiba brothers to spend the day with. You were much more excited for the annual company Christmas party that was being held at Kaiba Land three days prior. 

The evening before the party, you slept in the Kaiba mansion-- which sounds much more exciting than it actually was, because Seto had taken you there at close to midnight and told you to be awake and ready to go by eight in the morning. Rather than spending any time with your boyfriend, the maids brought you to one of the many guest bedrooms and you quickly removed your makeup, took a hot shower, and slipped into bed. 

Bright and early, you did your makeup, made your hair look at least somewhat presentable, and put on a cute pink sweater, jeans, and some warm boots. You sprayed on some of your vanilla scented perfume, slipped on a warm jacket, and you and Seto embarked for a day of planning and (hopefully) fun. Mokuba was spending the day with his current girlfriend and her family before they went on vacation for the holidays, so it was just you and your boyfriend. 

Seto had insisted you didn’t need to work at all while you were there, but you wanted to help him before the park opened in light of how stressed he had been. You ended up not having very much to do, however, since your boyfriend did so much micro-managing of all the Kaiba Land employees. You mostly followed him about while he ordered people around and oversaw the dinner plans.

It was quickly becoming evident that your role for the day was to be a stress reliever for him, he didn’t expect you to do any sort of planning work or set-up because you were just there to walk with him and occasionally offer witty banter and snarky jokes. You weren’t sure how good of a job you were doing, considering how much he was running his fingers through his hair and pinching the bridge of his nose, but you also didn’t miss the way he squeezed your hand when the two of you were going from place to place. 

The park opened for all Kaiba Corp. employees and their families at noon, and despite the chilly December air almost everyone attended. The weather was good, not a flake of snow or even a breeze to speak of, and even though the waterpark was closed, all the other rides were open and ready to go. Since Seto had taken care of all the park coordination early in the morning, it left you the day to do whatever you wanted. He insisted he still had emails to answer and some work to do, but for the most part, he’d allow you to take him anywhere in the park you wanted. 

At the time, you had been surprised by the gesture, knowing how much work he had, but thinking back on it you’d realized it was a sort of reward for being so patient with him while he had been so busy. Seto showed his affection for you in some strange, non-descript ways sometimes. He’d never said “I love you” or anything romantic to that extent, but he squeezed at your hand and held you in tight hugs when you asked for it, or merely when he felt like it. He wasn’t very expressive with his words, but you’d learned to interpret his body language and small gestures plenty well.

You’d been to Kaiba Land a few times since the two of you started dating, mostly because there weren't a lot of other places you could go where Seto could work and relax at the same time. You'd been on all the rides in the park at least once, but you hadn't really played any of the games in the booths that lined one of the front entrances. 

After going on most of your favorite coasters you dragged Seto to said games, and although you weren't terribly good at them, insisted he play against you. The only game you were any good at was the cork gun shooter, where you'd actually managed to win quite a large stuffed Black Magician plush toy. The second it was in your hands, you spun around to the first wide-eyed child you saw and offered it to him. Seto seemed surprised by the gesture, but he didn't comment on it until you'd given away a total of four different carnival toys to complete strangers. 

“Why are you doing that?” He asked. 

“What am I going to do with them? I've got plenty of stuffed animals at home,” you shrugged. 

He didn't respond further, but he did begin to follow your lead, giving his winnings to surrounding little boys and girls. The two of you went around the park to the various games, until you'd played each of them once or twice. For the record, you'd managed to beat Seto in two different games (and you didn't like to talk about the seven wins he had on you). 

Finally, you came to a ring toss game, and you looked over the prizes curiously, until you spied your target. It was an extra large plush, one you needed to trade in for, which meant you were going to be at it for a while. Just your luck, you were awful at ring toss. 

“I'm hungry,” you declared after you'd played three rounds and barely managed to win the smallest prize. 

“What do you want?”

“Churros.” 

Seto frowned down at you as you handed the ring toss worker a handful of tickets and were given a large pile of rings in return. 

“Kaiba Land doesn't serve churros.” 

“Well why the fuck not?” 

He shot you a glare, which you pointedly ignored in favor of concentrating on the game in front of you. 

“You're terrible at this.” 

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” 

Seto pushed you aside and took a ring in his hand, and you watched the way he tilted his hand to the side before he let the ring go. With a satisfying plink, it rolled around a bottle mouth a few times before going still. 

“Show off.” You muttered. When he made to reach for another ring, you quickly pulled them all away from him and huffed, “I wanna do it.” 

He raised an eyebrow at you in frustration, before pinching at the bridge of his nose and sighing. “This is going to take you forever. I'm going to check on some things, stay here until I get back.”

He turned on his heels and walked away briskly, leaving you to your ring toss dreams. You must have played over a dozen games, winning only the smallest prizes each time. If you were improving, even in the slightest, it wasn't obvious to you or anyone around you. Each time you got two small prizes, you traded them for a medium, then eventually when you had three mediums you traded it for a large. 

It had been almost an hour by the time you had finally earned enough for the extra large prize. You scooped the plush into your arms, over three feet of pure, silky soft blue fabric bundled into your hands. If anything, no one could say Seto skimped on the quality of the prizes. When he returned, you had a proud grin on your face and a Blue Eyes White Dragon nestled in your arms. 

“I did it.” you declared loudly. 

“I can see that.” 

You looked around the area for a few minutes dramatically, purely for the theater of it all, before you practically skipped to your boyfriend and held out the plush. 

“It's for you.” 

He stared at it for a moment, and if he was at all surprised by the gesture he did a good job of hiding it. His sapphire eyes flashed up to yours, before he cleared his throat. 

“You know I have an entire stockroom of these right? You didn't need to go through the trouble of winning me one. I could take one any time I want.”

You considered his point for a moment and frowned. You actually hadn't thought of the fact that he had access to the Blue Eyes plushies. Knowing him, he probably had a collection of three already, but you had just thought he would like it.

“Why me?” He asked, breaking your thoughts.

“Because it's your favorite.”

He looked back down at the toy and seemed to think on it for a minute, before taking it gingerly from your hands and turning it over a few times. 

“You know,” you said. “You don't have to force yourself to take it. I mean I wasn't really thinking about it so if it’ll just take up space--"

“Thank you.”

You blinked up at him aghast. You'd heard Seto say thank you maybe once, _maybe_ , ever in your life. You were at a loss for words when he glanced back down at you with a hard blue gaze. 

“We should go eat,” Seto said abruptly, back to his all-business mode, “The fireworks are going to be starting soon.” 

You followed after him quickly, past the rest of the theme park games and various rides, and onto the Blue Eyes tram that ran from one end of the park to the other. You took one of the empty seats and Seto stood next to you, the ridiculously large plush toy under one of his arms and a stoic expression upon his face. You thought the combination to be rather silly, and you tried your best to stifle a giggle by clenching your teeth together in a devilish grin. Next to you, a little boy was ogling at the CEO towering over you, you could practically see the sparkles in his eyes. 

When the two of you disembarked the tram, Seto lead you to a very long pavilion with rows of tables and chairs leading up to multiple, huge buffet tables stocked with standard cook-out foods. Hot dogs, burgers, potato salads, chips and dip, kebabs, the fixings for salads; it was actually quite American. You hadn’t been to a quality grilling party in a long, long time, so when the smell of grilled meats and veggies hit you, you mouth was watering. 

“You know, if this doesn’t live up to my American standards, I’m going to give you an earful.” 

“I would expect no less.”

The pavilion was already mostly packed with Kaiba Corp. employees and their families, happily munching on their food and talking about all manner of things. You and Seto grabbed drinks and plates of food, and sat at a table somewhat far from most of the other guests. The two of you ate rather quickly as the sky began to grow dark, not talking about much of anything, although you offered him praise for the very American meal in front of you. Realistically, you thought the potato salad could have used more mustard, but you decided to keep that to yourself.

Once you were both finished with dinner, Seto scooped up his Blue Eyes and returned it to its spot beneath his arm, before leading you to the open area removed a ways from the entrance to the waterpark. It overlooked the harbor at the edge of the park, where you could see a handful of small boats with firework canons on them. The chairs and loungers that usually sat in the waterpark had all been moved out, and people had already started filling in the seats in preparation for the firework show. 

Seto pulled out his phone the moment he was sat in one of the loungers, and you moved a chair closer so the armrests were touching. You watched the sky as it grew darker and darker, the moon hidden behind a large grey cloud. You anxiously awaited the firework show, glancing over at Seto occasionally as he replied to emails. 

An announcement was made over the park loudspeakers that the fireworks were about to start, and Seto begrudgingly slipped his phone into his coat pocket. He put his free hands on the armrests, and you took the opportunity to lace your fingers with his. He raised an eyebrow to you, which you returned with a grin. 

“Did you know I love you?” You asked playfully.

“Yes.”

You hummed and took the opportunity to lean your head down onto his shoulder, which he neither commented on not objected to. The lights in the area began to dim, signaling the start of the firework show, and after a few quiet moments, you watched the first golden stream of sparks leave one of the boats on the water and explode in the sky. Soon after, it was followed by all multitude of colored fireworks, and the sky was set ablaze with purples and silvers and reds. You liked watching them travel out of the cannons on the boats and trying to guess when they would explode. 

There was no finale like a traditional firework show, and after a moment, the man on the park loudspeakers announced it would be a few minutes to set up for the “second act.” You'd never been to a firework show that had more than one part, though you'd also never been to a firework show run by the overachiever that was your boyfriend. 

You decided to take the opportunity to grab another small plate of food, and when you ask Seto if he wanted anything, he opted to come with you rather than answer. You made your way over to the buffet table beneath one of the pavilions, removed from where everyone was sitting for the firework show. You didn’t notice he hadn’t actually come for the food until he was standing dangerously close behind you. 

“What are you doing?” You hummed as his fingers reached around to grab your wrist, and you set down the tongs you’d been using to grab some cookies. It wasn’t really rare for Seto to show you affection in public, but he usually avoided it at business-related events, and you figured this counted as one of those. It was dark in the little pavilion, though, since all of the lights around the firework viewing area had been shut off aside from the lights along the walkways, so no one could see you.

“You’ve been teasing me all week,” he breathed lowly into your ear. His sudden change in tone surprised you, you wondered where it had come from, or if he had just been bottling it up the entire night. You glanced around the pavilion and confirmed that there was no one besides the two of you inside, which you assumed was why your boyfriend was being so bold. 

“I haven’t even done anything.”

He scoffed, which you found a little comical considering you actually hadn’t ‘teased’ him at all that week. On the contrary, you’d been trying to keep all your sexual tension on the down-low so you didn’t distract him too much.

“Wearing the perfume I bought you, winning me a Blue Eyes, wearing those tight jeans,” he continued, his breath brushing past your ear and causing you to involuntarily shiver into him, “You’re telling me it was unintentional?”

“Yeah.”

“That makes it even worse,” he growled. 

You couldn’t help but giggle, which just served to make him more annoyed. He pressed his chest closer against your back and moved his fingers up your hand to lace them with yours. Truthfully, you kind of wanted to laugh again just to see how far he’d go in public, but you thought that was probably a dangerous experiment to attempt. 

“Why is it worse?” You decided to ask instead. You realized a bit too late that he would probably interpret it as goading. 

“It means you’re just naturally this cute.”

Somehow, the idea of his being so forthcoming was just so alien and baffling to you that you couldn’t help but giggle again. The man could be completely stoic and silent most of the time, that him actually flirting with you always served to throw you off guard. It just felt so out of character. Perhaps you were laughing because you were nervous, or because your heart was fluttering so rapidly, or just because you couldn’t see his face. 

As you had previously hypothesized, your giggles caused the man to go even further, and you felt his teeth against your earlobe quickly. You let in a sharp breath and quickly suppressed your laughs, which in turn prompted him to bring his lips down onto your neck. Your hair was tied up and away, giving him easy access to your nape. He kissed your skin a few times, softly, before abruptly nipping at it, and you couldn’t help but whimper at the sensation. He responded to your sounds by bringing his lips completely over a particularly sensitive area of skin and sucking on it. It was probably going to leave a hickey, you thought to yourself, as a tiny moan passed your slightly parted lips. 

“You really should keep your voice down, we’re in public.” He chided. 

Logically, you knew that you were too far away from anyone else and the new round of fireworks was too loud for anyone to hear you, but his comment still sent a nervous shock through your heart. Sometimes you hated how unpredictable and erratic your boyfriend’s behavior could be, but right now was not one of those times. 

As quickly as he had been against you, he pulled away from you and let go of your hand. You turned your head to look up at him in the darkness, a self-satisfied smirk painted upon his face. When you opened your mouth to speak, a round of loud fireworks exploded overhead, and you didn't have the willpower to raise your voice at him. You added a brownie to your small plate and huffed, and the two of you walked back to the sitting area. 

You began nibbling on your plate of sweets, and every time you glanced over at your boyfriend, he was staring at you. At the time, you probably should have noticed how he had been staring at you all day, but you were blissfully oblivious in the moment. You tried to figure out what specifically you had done to set him off, but though you racked your brain, you couldn't think of anything out of the ordinary. You shrugged it off and tried to focus your attention on the fireworks until the show was over. 

Once the finale ended, the crowd watching erupted into applause, and the air filled with laughter and excitement. Seto stood from his chair and put in his business face, and as people began to get ready to leave the park, they shook his hand and thanked him for another excellent party. The entire way back to the park entrance was the same, with children bubbling with excitement and thanking the young CEO for the event and employees congratulating him on another successful year. You hung back and allowed Seto to do his job for quite a while, until most of the park had emptied and the two of you headed for the parking lot. 

The limousine driver was already waiting at the curb, and he dutifully opened the door for the two of you. You slid into the heated leather seats and breathed a sigh of relief. You hadn't realized how cold you were until you were surrounded by warmth. 

“Thank you for taking me out,” you said excitedly as the door shut the two of you in. 

Seto hummed in reply and looked you over for a moment, before he turned his body to face forward and pulled out his phone. You rubbed your hands together and felt the uncomfortable sensation of your toes thawing out, and chose to distract yourself by inching closer to your boyfriend and, again, placing your head against his shoulder. 

The traffic getting out of the park was hellish, but nothing compared to the traffic in the city. It would be a while before the two of you got back to his place. You watched Seto respond to the emails on his phone, and thought on how you did not envy his job one bit. 

You had been staring at his work so intently, you didn't notice when one of his hands had left his phone to snake onto your leg. You let in a sharp breath when his fingertips began moving up higher and higher on your thigh. 

“Perhaps,” Seto hummed absently, his voice dropped an octave like it had at the park, “We should make a stop on the way home.” 

“What for?” 

He glanced down at you, a spark of seduction flickering in his sapphire eyes. 

“I don't have any condoms at the mansion.” 

You blinked up at him slowly, at a sudden loss for words at his forward proposal. After a moment, a thought hit you, and you dug your wallet out from your back pocket. You fumbled with the fabric and reached into the bill holder, before digging out a square rapper and haphazardly tossing it to him. 

He caught the little square in his hand and turned it over a few times as you shoved your wallet back into your jeans. He set it onto the seat and placed his phone back into his coat before picking it up again to hold it between his fingers. His other hand was still gingerly caressing your inner thigh. 

“Why do you keep a condom in your wallet?” 

“Better safe than pregnant,” you shrugged. 

He smirked down at you for a moment, a calm silence in the air as you processed the implications of tossing a condom at the man. You weren't afraid of sex, not by any means, but you realized you hadn't exactly mentally prepared yourself for it. 

“Well I was planning to wait until I'd taken you home,” Seto hummed, “But if you're so insistent.” 

You were about to argue that you hadn't insisted on anything, but a voice in your head stopped you. You weren't insistent, but you were certainly willing, you realized. And in the standstill traffic in Domino, you weren't positive you could wait the half hour to forty-five minutes it would take to get back to the mansion. You tilted your head upward and brushed a bit of bang out of his face, noting that they had gotten pretty long since he'd neglected a haircut in the busy month. You breathed out a long breath in mental preparation, before your lips were seized by his. His hand still on your thigh, his other snaked behind your back to keep you held against him as you fluttered your eyelids closed and let your mind go blank.  
You moved your own arms up to encircle his neck, deepening the kiss as you hummed contently into him. His fingers brushed higher on your thigh, and you squirmed away and let out a squeal, garnering a confused glance from him. 

“That tickles,” you elaborated. 

“I wasn't aware you were ticklish,” he said sadistically. 

“Don't you dare,” you huffed, reaching down to pull his hand away from it's current spot, dangerously close to your tickle zone. You placed it on your shoulder and returned your lips to his with a self-satisfied grin. 

His hand didn't stay on your shoulder long, pulling down the stretchy knit collar of your sweater to run his fingertips along your clavicle. You hummed into his kiss again, prompting him to bite lightly on your bottom lip, something had learned very quickly was one of your favorite things. 

You arched your back into him as his tongue ran along your lip, demanding them to part and allow him entrance. You obliged, feeling his tongue glide along your lips a few more times before it wandered it's way to yours. His hand that had been tracing your collarbone impatiently reached down to the hem of your sweater, tugging it out of the waistband of your jeans. 

Your midriff was greeted by a cool breeze of air as his arm pulled up your sweater to gain access to the rest of your chest. His fingertips ghosted up your stomach, slowly inching their way to the soft, cottony fabric of your bra. In the back of your mind, you thought you probably should have worn a nicer bra than the one you had on now. Like the silky black one that matched the underwear you were currently wearing.

Seto took one of your breasts, still clothed in the comfortable bra, into his hand, his palm resting just where the fabric ended and bare skin began. You much preferred his hand on your upper body, without the fear that he was going to tickle you again. He removed his lips from yours and freed the rest of your sweater from your jeans, then tugged it from your body, forcing you to raise your arms over your head for him. He tossed it to the seat across from you and allowed his eyes to silently wander over your upper body, paying special attention to the way your bra cupped you. 

After a long moment you had half a mind to bring your arms up to shield yourself from his intent gaze, but the way his eyes sparkled with appraisal made you feel quite proud. Seto’s hand quickly returned to your chest, this time his fingers wiggling their way beneath the lower hem of your bra to get at your bare skin. 

His thumb brushed against your nipple, and you couldn't stop yourself from letting out a whimper. He smirked down at you and moved his lips to your ear, his warm breath whispering past it and making you squirm. When he rolled your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, you mewled into the crook of his neck, eliciting a low chuckle from him against your earlobe. How could such a normally stoic man be so sadistic and forward like this?

You reached to his shoulders to attempt to pull his trench coat off his body, but found you had no leverage in your current position, especially with your fingertips shaking in response to his thumb grazing teasingly at your nipple. You whimpered again in frustration, before pushing your weight onto him so his spine hit the back of the seat. He watched you curiously as you swung your leg over him, lowering yourself to sit on his lap. With the new position, you had a better angle to tug at his jacket, and you grinned victoriously as he allowed you to slide it off his body. 

“Are you pleased with yourself?” 

“Very, thank you for asking.”

He rolled his eyes in response and reached his hands around to your back where your bra clasped shut. It took him a few awkward seconds to get it off you before he took his time dragging the straps off your shoulders. He tossed the bra to the side where your sweater lay, and pulled you forward into him. Your lips crashed into his as he brought his hands back to your now completely bare breasts. With easier access, he let his fingertips skillfully glide over your nipples, causing goosebumps to form all over your skin, and you gripped at the front of his shirt. 

He brought his lips down from yours, nipping along your chin and down your neck to the sensitive spot just above your collarbone. He bit down on the area, and with your mouth no longer muffled by his own lips, you weren't able to keep your moans inside your throat. Thank God the backseat of limousine was separated from the driver with a soundproof tinted glass, otherwise you would probably have died from embarrassment. 

“Seto,” you breathed, feeling your hips roll slightly against him on their own. 

You could feel him smirk into your neck at the sound of his name. He freed one of his hands from your nipple to drag his fingers to your pants, undoing the button and zipper in the front. It was a struggle to get your pants off in the car, especially since you were on his laps practically trembling at his touch. You had to strip yourself of your shoes and toss them on the floor of the car before your jeans were finally shed. 

You sat back fully onto him, in nothing but a pair of black panties. He took the opportunity to take in the view, running his fingertips all over your skin and watching you shoved into his chest. 

“You still have all your clothes on,” you whimpered, tugging at the hem of his pants with.

“Why don't you take some initiative then?”

You pursed your lips together tightly and worked at his belt buckle. Seto didn't make your job any easier, purposely dragging his fingers lightly over your nipples so a breath caught in your throat each time. When you finally got his belt off you tossed it haphazardly to the side and set to work on his pants. You made quicker work of the button and zipper, though you had to almost beg before he pushed himself off the seat so you could strip them off him. 

Seeing Seto in boxer briefs wasn't a rarity, considering you'd seen them multiple times within the first few days of your dating, but it didn't make the sight any less nice. Especially when he was obviously hard beneath them. You allowed yourself a smug smirk, and the moment he saw it, he dipped his head to your breast and took your nipple into his mouth.

You found it near impossible to keep your hips from grinding against him now, especially when he was rolling your nipple between his teeth. You threw your head back and mewled, gripping at the back of his shirt in a desperate attempt to keep yourself grounded. It was all you could do to keep yourself from unraveling completely when one of his fingers worked its way to your panties and began rubbing teasingly at them.

When he found your clit, you moaned so loudly you were almost scared the driver could hear you. The way that Seto chuckled against your skin didn't help your volume level either. 

“You're getting quite into this aren't you?” 

“Shut up,” you breathed, though you knew the way your hips ground into him and begged for more gave you away. 

“You're being rude,” he hummed sadistically, “Perhaps I should just stop if you're going to--" 

His finger was on exactly the right spot as he spoke, and you couldn't help but interrupt him as you rolled your hips against him, a long mewl exiting your mouth as you clutched at him. 

“No, Seto please don't stop,” you begged, “Please, I’m…” 

“You're what?” He demanded, moving his mouth from your breast up to your ear. For a moment, the world was silent from anything but his voice, low and velvety and hitting right at your core.

“Fuck,” you whimpered completely forgetting his question in your euphoria, “Why are you so good?”

“I'm a genius,” he replied effortlessly as you dropped your head against his shoulder and moaned his name, your lower muscles trembling as he continues to stroke you in time with your hips. You lost all control of yourself in that instant, moving erratically as your voice caught in your throat and your eyelids clenched shut.

Your fingertips shook when the moment ended, and you had to pull his hand from your nethers to keep yourself from becoming overstimulated in your post-orgasm state. You felt his hard member pressed against you and cursed yourself for cumming before him, wondering if it made you a bad girlfriend. You really hoped not, considering how pleased with himself Seto seemed. 

“Your turn,” you smiled. 

Without waiting for any input from him, you tugged his boxers down until he allowed you to slide them off, revealing to you for the first time his cock. It was longer than you'd expected it to be, especially considering the stereotype surrounding Asian men. You were suddenly flustered, and couldn't think of what to say about it though you were pretty sure you were supposed to make at least some sort of comment. Guys liked to be complimented on their size, right?

“That's not gonna fit,” you blurted. 

Seto raised an eyebrow down at you, his fingers running along your back as he watched you stare down at it. You let in a deep breath before you reached across the seat to pluck up the condom you'd pulled from your wallet, gingerly tearing it from its wrapping, and taking a moment to make sure it was facing the right way. You placed it on the head of his member, rolling it down as far as it would go, before you looked up at him. 

He ran a finger along your jaw lightly before he began to speak, “Would you like me to--" 

“I can do it,” you said confidently, “You did all the work on me so I should do it.” 

“I would rather you not push yourself.” He frowned.

“No I'm not…. Oh, what if I bleed on your seats?” 

“I’ll have them cleaned.” 

You nodded, and looked down at his dick again, going through exactly how you were supposed to fit it inside of you. You let out a shaky breath, and positioned the head at your entrance, before starting to lower yourself onto him.

You were positive he was going to break you, even though you knew that wasn’t how it worked. Women don’t just break from sex, you continued to assure yourself, but the feeling still lingered as tension rippled through your nethers. It didn’t feel exactly painful, more uncomfortable as your muscles stretched to accommodate his impressive size, but it was certainly a strange feeling combined with how tired you already were in your post-orgasm state. 

“Fuck,” you whimpered as you felt your muscles threaten to give out. Every inch you slowly brought yourself down onto him, you thought for sure his length would have to end. But it kept going, your fingers trembling as you gripped the front of his shirt tightly and bit at your bottom lip to ground yourself. Why had you insisted on this position again? You should have let him do the work, dammit. 

The worst part was the way he just… watched you. His sapphire eyes unwavering and staring hard at your face as you forced yourself completely down onto his lap. You felt a chill go through your heart under his gaze, desperate to please him despite your body’s protests. You let in a long breath and leaned your head forward on his shoulder, taking a moment to steady yourself and focus on the feeling of him completely buried inside of you. 

“That was harder than I thought it would be,” you breathed. Then as you realized the pun you hadn’t even meant to make, you let out loose a fit of giggles.

“Why are you laughing?” He huffed. 

“Harder… like,” you lifted your face so you could see him and wiggled your eyebrows suggestively, “like _harder_.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Sorry,” you replied with a tiny chuckle. 

You pushed your upper body all the way up so you were sitting straight again, and made to move yourself again. You’d seen enough porn that you know what you were supposed to do, probably, but it was still a foreign concept in practice. The second you shifted your weight, you felt his length poke at something very sensitive within you, sending a jolt through your body. You involuntarily arched your back so your chest pushed against him, and a noise you’d never made before escaped your lips. 

“That’s a new one,” Seto smirked darkly, and he placed his hands on your hips to keep you falling backwards as the limo slowed to a stop at, presumably, a red light. You managed to move yourself up a good portion of his length, without moving too much for fear of it slipping out and you being unable to put it back in. The car started moving again as you willed yourself to bring your body back down, letting in a sharp breath and clutching his shoulders. 

“Fuck,” you repeated breathily. 

Seto reached up to your face to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen out of your ponytail. His hungry eyes still focused almost oppressively on yours, and the feeling of desperation to please him continued to swell in your abdomen. 

“You're too big,” you muttered, all the air already gone from your lungs as his fingertips dug into the skin of your hips. 

“I told you you should let me do it,” he replied. You forced yourself to move up, your muscles beginning to relax around the feeling of him. When you brought yourself down again, a low sound escaped his throat that nearly made you melt into him. His voice was like caramel and bourbon, low and sweet and music to your ears. You'd never heard such a pleased sound from your boyfriend, and you felt a warm feeling swell in your chest. You wanted to hear him make more of those sounds.

It quickly got easier to move, as your muscles got used to him inside of you, although your legs still felt like jelly. You had to push the thought from your mind as you continued to grip his shirt and move up and down his length, squeezing your eyes shut and whimpering incomprehensible nonsense each time he hit just the right spot inside of you. 

“Fuck,” he breathed against your neck.

“That's my line,” you snickered. 

Seto didn't outwardly moan like you had been hoping for, but his breathing got shallow and he made another low sound in his throat that about made you collapse into him. You felt his muscles tense and swell inside of you as his forehead fell onto your shoulder momentarily. The sound of heavy breathing filled the otherwise quiet car, and you nestled your face into his neck and grinned at the moment as his fingertips began to run up and down your spine once more. 

You took a long moment to catch your breath before you finally gathered the energy to remove yourself from his lap. You busied yourself with pulling on your clothes while Seto used the tissues kept in the limousine to clean himself up. You remarked that it was just in time that you finished, as a few moments later you rolled through the open gates to the Kaiba mansion. You had both put your clothes back on and you'd taken your hair out of your messy ponytail when the limo driver opened the door for the two of you. 

Seto ended up having to help you out of the car, keeping an arm on your waist to support you when you nearly fell over in his driveway. Your legs felt like jelly, trembling beneath your weight, and you couldn't help but laugh at the situation. You’d thought the whole ‘tired leg’ trope only happened in movies, but your muscles were so exhausted from the work you’d put them through that you could hardly move them properly.

“Holy shit I'm tired. Can I stay here tonight?” 

He cast a smirk your way, studying the mess he’d made of you for both your first times as helped you inside the entrance to his home and up the stairs. It was a good thing you hadn't worn heels that night, or you might have had him carry you to bed.

“I suppose it's the least I can offer you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in CANADA  
> Which is why I updated a little late! I spent the day driving to the Great White North and couldn't edit and post this until I got wifi again. So I apologize that I'm an hour late @-@
> 
> Speaking of Canada, will any of you guys be at Otakuthon? If you see a Battle City Kaiba there feel free to bug me and tell me if you like my trench coat because I spent days on it whoops. 
> 
> As always please let me know if you liked this chapter, if you notice any typos, etc etc. My self-worth is based upon your feedback so give me lots ;)


	12. Razor's Edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for missing last week's update, I had back-to-back cons and then got invited to be a cosplay guest at an upcoming event so I've been really busy pumping out costumes @-@
> 
> This chapter is a little shorter, but it's set-up for a really big event coming up. So please forgive me <3

After the whole shipment fiasco, Seto had been so overwhelmingly busy trying to get Souzou production back on time that he had nearly doubled his work hours. He woke up at five sharp when he even bothered to sleep at home, skipped all of his classes, and if his sudden weight loss was any indication, you were pretty sure he wasn’t bothering to eat proper meals either. He still somehow had time to do his homework, or at least the homework for your math class, since you were handing it in to the professor for him. He had actually gone so far as to demand you show him how to apply concealer to his under eyes so his employees would stop looking at his dark circles. 

Needless to say, with your own load of classwork and hours at the boutique, you’d barely seen any of your boyfriend the past week. It wasn’t until Thursday night, at close to nine, when he finally came home and curtly informed you that he’d be spending the night in his office. Natalia asked if you wanted to bring up his dinner, and you jumped at the opportunity to spend a little time with him. 

You carried a plate of steak and veggies and a tall cup of coffee up to his office, setting it on his desk next to his keyboard and looking over him quietly. The concealer he’d put on in the morning had started to crack and fade (you needed to remind him to use setting spray next time) and he looked so tired you wouldn’t have been surprised if he fell asleep working. 

He barely acknowledged your presence, other than to tell you to close the door if you planned to stay. You took that as an invitation to make yourself comfortable while he typed away at his emails. Once the door was closed you pulled one of the empty chairs along the wall next to him so you could sit down and watch him work. After a few moments of merely sitting, though, you decided you weren’t quite close enough to him. Thinking he would probably kill you if you tried to lean against his shoulder or disrupt his arm movements in any way, you instead decided to lie down on him. 

You plopped your head into his lap and curled your legs into your chest, wrapping one arm around them to lock yourself into a comfortable fetal position. You put your other hand up to rest against his knee and hummed contently, nuzzling your cheek against the smooth material of his dress pants until you were content with your position. 

“I love you,” you said, half your mouth pressed against his leg so the statement sounded more like a mumbled mess than anything. 

A strained sigh rang from above you, and you tilted your face up so you could see Seto’s face. His lips were pursed into a careful frown, brow furrowed so he looked quite annoyed. He had stopped typing and instead focused his attention on you. 

“What do you want?”

“Huh?”

“You’re being overly affectionate,” he grumbled, “So what do you want?” 

“I don’t want anything,” you frowned. You reached your hand up from his leg, though you had a limited range of movement with the way you were lying so you could only reach the very tip of his chin with your fingertips. It wasn’t nearly as comforting as you had intended it to be. 

“Of course you want something. Everyone _wants_ something.” 

“Seto… I’m not lying. I don’t want anything from you.”

“Really?” He huffed skeptically. 

“Really. Unless you count just wanting to lay here, I mean I want that. But if it’ll distract you--”

“It’s fine. Forget it.” He interrupted impatiently, using one of his hands to remove your fingers from his chin. You put it back onto his leg and turned your face away from him so you didn’t have to look at how annoyed he was. The massive amount of stress he’d been under as of late was wearing both of you down. Every little thing set him off, he was constantly in a bad mood, and even if you were merely showering him with love he found a way to spin it into a negative. You hardly had the energy to keep up with his bad mood, with the fashion show in less than two weeks you were under enough stress on your own without him adding to it. 

You closed your eyes and sighed into his leg, trying to push both your bad moods from your mind and focus on the fact that for the first time in four days, Seto was home before midnight. Even if he was under a ton of stress, at least you were able to lay on him like this, because you’d missed the physical contact dearly. 

_Focus on the positives_ , you told yourself, _he doesn’t need you to be upset, too._

You decided to focus on the sound of his typing, which he had resumed at his usual breakneck pace. The noise always served to relax you. In fact, you’d grown so accustom to it that when you were having trouble sleeping and he wasn’t home you’d sometimes search for typing ASMR videos to play through your earbuds. Although the typing in said videos wasn't nearly as fast as Seto was, and nothing could beat the real sound of him typing just above you. The sound quickly made you feel tired, and you thought to yourself this was probably the first time you’d get any sleep before midnight yourself in the past week.

At some point you’d stirred from sleep momentarily to feel fingertips running along your scalp and through your hair. Your brain barely registered that they had to be Seto’s, but you couldn’t stay awake long enough to see what was happening or what time it was, so you merely allowed the feeling to lull you back into sleep. 

\-----

On Saturday, you stopped by Seto’s office after your shift at work ended, with every intention of either taking him out to dinner or demanding the two of you order takeout. You were positive the man hadn’t had anything but coffee for the whole day, and you’d be a terrible girlfriend if you didn’t at least attempt to put some food into him.

The elevator dinged and the doors open to the top floor of Kaiba Corporation, empty other than Seto’s secretary and whoever was behind the closed door to his office. You could hear voices pouring into the waiting room, though, which was pretty strange considering Seto’s office was mostly soundproof. You could only ever hear him if he was shouting, and even then that was if you put your ear against the door.

_“Chill out Kaiba, I’m telling you I had nothing to do with--”_

_“Cut the shit, Otogi.”_ Kaiba’s clipped voice came quietly from Aiko’s desk. 

“What’s going on?” You lowered your voice and bounded over toward her, eying the phone that was left off the receiver. 

“Mister Kaiba left the intercom on,” Aiko replied, pointing to the mute button that was already lit up before returning her attention to the form she was reading over. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t hung up yet.”

“Why would I?” She cracked the smallest of grins. 

“He’s gonna fire you if he finds out.” 

“Are you going to tell him?” She raised an eyebrow.

“You kidding? Eavesdropping is my favorite pastime,” you chuckled and leaned yourself against her desk, directing your attention back to the phone. 

_“You honestly expect me to believe that you had absolutely nothing to do with this shipping mistake?”_

_“Why on Earth would I?”_

_“Don’t think I haven’t been keeping tabs on you, Otogi. I’m well aware of the exclusivity deal you’ve struck with Zigfried. And considering Schroeder Corp.’s newest gaming system was set to release the day after the Souzouryoku, it would be rather convenient if my company’s VR system’s production was delayed.”_

_“Seriously?”_ You heard a crackly noise that sounded somewhat like a scoff, _“You think I’d sabotage your production just so the sale dates wouldn’t overlap?”_

_“Lord knows it’s the only way either of you are going to shift units.”_

Both you and Aiko had to put your hands over your mouths to keep from laughing too loudly at the pure amount of shade Seto was throwing. 

_“Alright, asshole. I don’t have to take this--”_

_“In any case,”_ Seto interrupted, _“The little coalition between you and Zigfried won’t do either of you any good. You especially. Take my advice and stop wasting your time with a snake like him.”_

_“And why should I listen to you, Kaiba?”_

_“Because nothing good comes from being involved with the Schroeders. And if you insist on continuing this childish nonsense, I won’t hesitate to crush you along with him.”_

_“You think you can crush me?”_

_“I know I can.”_

_“What a load of crap,”_ Ryuji huffed, _“Look Kaiba I know we used to be friends and all--”_

_“I wouldn’t have ever called us friends.”_

_“Wow. And here I thought you’d changed your tone, even a little bit, from high school. But you’re still the bitter kid you’ve always been, huh? Is that all you wanted? Because if so, I’m done here.”_

The sound of footsteps barely came through the line, and you wiggled yourself off the edge of Aiko’s desk and turned to face her normally in an attempt to look like you hadn’t been listening to the phone. 

_“Oh, one more thing--”_ you heard Seto’s voice clip through as Aiko quickly put the phone back onto the receiver and cut the intercom off. She made herself look busy as one of the ornate doors to the office swung open, and Ryuji began to saunter out of them.

“Souzouryoku production is still on track as scheduled, and I have no intention of allowing the release date to be pushed back. So if I were you, I wouldn’t get too comfortable with your little business arrangement with Zigfried. I doubt either of you will even have a business once I’m done with you.”

Ryuji slammed the door behind him and whipped his face to glare in your direction, before quickly softening his features when he realized it was you. He sighed and made his way to your side, shaking his head in exasperation. 

“How do you deal with him?” Ryuji huffed.

“Well, I love the man.” You shrugged, “Love makes it easy to put up with… well everything.”

“I will never understand how you can… never mind.” Ryuji rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone, very obviously keeping the screen hidden from your vision.

You had never really had a problem with Ryuji. The guys was naturally likeable, his snarky attitude was actually pretty funny to you, and he’d always been fairly nice to you. He’d never been particularly nice to Seto which kind of rubbed you the wrong way, but considering Seto wasn’t really nice to anyone, you tended to brush it off. Admittedly, you’d only really talked to Ryuji a few times since first meeting him at Yugi’s house party a few years ago, so you didn’t know the guy very well. But seeing him at PAX, and again now, his tone seemed to have shifted. You weren’t really sure how to describe the change, but he seemed more… hostile? On edge? 

“Well, I have actual work to do,” Ryuji said suddenly, “Good luck in there.”

Something about him was definitely off, you decided. Yeah you barely knew the guy, but you liked to think you read people pretty well. Well enough to notice that he had been at the very least in a perpetually terrible mood since seeing you and Seto at PAX. Normally you might not have wanted to draw attention to it, but with the way Seto had been acting the past week and how stressed you had been yourself, your usual reservations were all but gone.

“Hey, Ryuji,” you said quickly. 

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t… have anything to do with the shipping thing, did you?” 

You heard Aiko choke on her water behind you.

“Huh?” He spun around to raise an eyebrow at you, “Did you hear that conversation?” 

“A little,” you said, before quickly trying to steer away from the fact that you’d been eavesdropping, “Listen I’m not going to tell Seto either way; he doesn’t need all the extra stress. But I want to know.” 

“Look I already told Kaiba I didn’t have anything to do with it. Maybe he should look at his own company before trying to blame other people. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Ryuji waited a moment for the elevator to open before him, before he quickly got into it and hit the button for the bottom floor impatiently. Before the doors closed, he locked eyes with you, with a look that you weren’t sure how to describe. Like he was trying to tell you something without actually saying it. 

You’d never really believed in things like ‘gut feelings’, however, in that moment something felt very off to you. You weren’t sure if it was a feeling about the shipping mishap or something more, but for the briefest of seconds your chest tightened. You didn’t like the feeling one bit. 

You stood quietly in the waiting room for a moment before you decided to make your own way to the elevator. You weren’t quite sure what to do with the newfound information, or rather, the questions you’d suddenly garnered. You hit the down button and sighed, pulling out your phone and opening up a Google tab. 

“Are you not going to see Mister Kaiba?” Aiko called from her desk. 

“No, I think he’s probably too busy anyway. I’m gonna go home and do some research.”

“What on?”

You frowned at her, “I’m not really sure yet.”

The doors opened to you, and you stepped inside quickly, typing ‘Schroeder Corporation’ into the search bar on your screen and hitting search before hitting the button for the parking garage. You held the open door button for a moment and glanced over at Aiko, who had already turned her attention back to her own computer screen. 

“Hey, Aiko.”

“Yes?”

“Do me a favor, don’t tell Seto I was here, okay?”

She stopped her typing and furrowed her eyebrows at you for a moment, before nodding. You removed your finger from the button and allowed the doors to close, sinking you into momentary silence. You decided not to talk to Seto about anything regarding Ryuji or the Schroeders, not wanting to make him more busy than he already was. Instead, you were going to do some of your own looking into the situation. If Seto wasn’t going to be home soon, you could probably use his laptop to look into the Kaiba Corporation files on them, too. For once, you were actually hoping he had no plans to come home early.


	13. Scars

You awoke in the middle of the night to a loud gasp and quick jolt from the body laying next to you, and clutched your pillow as you tried to figure out what was going on. You blinked the sleep from your eyes blearily and listened into the darkness to hear Seto’s rapid breathing behind you. It took your tired brain a long moment to process what was going on, realizing he must have woken up from a nightmare, something that had never happened for at least as long as you’d been with him. You suppressed a yawn and rolled over to find him sitting up in bed, silhouette just barely illuminated enough that you could see his skin glistening with moisture. You heard him curse, his tense voice muffled by his hands.

“What’s wrong?” You muttered softly, pushing yourself off your pillow so you could sit up next to him. 

“Nothing. I just haven’t had a dream like that since I was a teenager.”

You recalled reading a passage that dealt with nightmares like this in a self-help book about stress management; well, you supposed it wasn’t really a ‘self-help’ book if you were reading it for more insight on how to deal with Mokuba and everything he was going through lately. You were learning that a lot of the points in said book related to the elder Kaiba, unsurprisingly considering he was basically a ball of walking stress. Anyway, the chapter you had read talked about how large amounts of stress increased the frequency and magnitude of a person’s nightmares. In that case, it made sense that Seto would be suffering at least the occasional nightmare, but it was still unnerving seeing him like this. You’d had your share of nightmares in your twenty years of living and breathing, but you’d never jolted out of bed like he did, never woken up panting or shaking.

In the darkness you could just make out his body, back hunched over and hands against his face, the covers all kicked off him and in a pile at the foot of the bed. After a little while his breathing began to even out, but it was still heavy like he was trying to calm himself down. You reached out to place a hand against his back, his skin warm and damp with sweat. Whatever nightmare he had must have been awful, you’d never seen him this shaken before.

“Are you okay?” 

“Fine.” 

You frowned but nodded anyway, not wanting to push him to say anything he didn’t want to. You swallowed the lump in your throat and debated what to do, before remembering how he always rubbed circles on your back to help you calm down when you were upset. Hoping the motion would help, or at least he’d recognize the sentiment, you ignored the sweat on his back and slowly ran your fingers around in a wide circle just below his neck, before moving down a little to where he usually rubbed you. 

Your fingers brushed against one of the long scars on his back, and his muscles twitched before he sat up straight and swung his arm around to smack your hand away from him. His knuckles connected with your wrist with a _thwack_ , and though it didn’t hurt at all, you still flinched away out of instinct. You leaned your weight against your other arm and shifted away from him, unsure what to do. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough now that you could see the features on his face, his eyes wide and mouth open in an emotion you’d never seen on him before. 

After a long, tense moment, you returned your weight back to where it had been and grabbed the wrist he had hit with your other hand to bring it into your lap, now left without any idea of what to do or say to comfort him.

“Sorry,” he muttered, almost inaudibly due to how scratchy and dry his voice was. Never ever did Seto Kaiba apologize for anything, and though you appreciated the sentiment it only served to make you more worried. 

“Hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to apologize,” you said softly.

“I hit you,” he asserted flatly. 

“Honey relax, you didn’t hit me. It was just a reflex. I shouldn’t have….” You trailed off, running through exactly what you’d done. He hadn’t had any sort of reaction to you touching his scars since… well since ever actually. The first time you’d accidentally ran your fingers over them when the two of you first started dating, you were the one who had gotten all nervous about it, not him. So for him to react to it, his dream must have been about--

“Oh, god,” you murmured as the realization hit you. “Seto I’m so sorry-”

“Stop.”

You bit down on your tongue to keep from saying anything else and just stared at him in the darkness, watching his shoulders rise and fall in a clearly practiced rhythm. His eyes weren’t wide anymore, now he was merely looking back at you blankly with his carefully constructed emotionless mask.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

You frowned but nodded, unwilling to drive him to talk about anything he didn’t want to talk about, especially with such a sensitive topic. You looked down at your hands in your lap and racked your brain for a solution, but couldn’t think of anything really. You weren’t really sure if there was a solution. You released your wrist and reached over to take one of his hands in yours, opting for a less invasive way to comfort him this time. You wrapped your fingers around his palm and used your thumb to gently run lines back and forth across the back of his hand, and heard him sigh above you. For a while there was an uncomfortable, unsure silence between the two of you, and Seto had since turned his gaze to the hand you were rubbing. It might have been more accurate to say he was looking at your wrist, the spot where his knuckled had connected to hit your hand away.

“Perhaps I should.” He muttered, barely audible as he turned his face completely away from you to look at the sheets piled at the foot of the bed. 

“Seto, if you don’t want to talk about it it’s fine.”

“There isn’t much to talk about,” he said, keeping his eyes on your hand wrapped around his. For a long time he was completely silent, like he was searching for either the courage or the words. You weren’t quite sure if he planned to describe his dream in specific or the more general circumstances surrounding it, nor were you sure which you would prefer, you just hoped there was something you’d be able to do or say for him once he decided. Finally, he sighed again, cleared his scratchy throat, and began. 

“It started with little things,” he muttered, voice an octave lower, “...a ruler on my knuckles, squeezing until it left bruises. For a while it was only when I’d make any sort of mistake in my work or slip up with my studies. It was my fault.” He used his free hand to brush the bangs out of his damp face absently, running his fingers through them multiple times as if trying to distract himself from his words. You had to stop yourself from interrupting and insisting no, of course it wasn’t his fault. Even though you desperately wanted to comfort him, you didn’t want to interrupt him and make him shut himself away again, so you simply gave his hand a soft squeeze and after a long, far-away pause he continued.

“When there was a lot going on at work he would take out his stress on me. He favored the belt but it wasn’t… limited.” Seto’s words were carefully chosen, as if he was picking the least emotionally invested words to use. “He was always careful to avoid my face or anywhere that would be seen.”

 _Probably to avoid bad press._ You thought, feeling an angry heat swell up in your chest.

Then his voice was flat, completely devoid of all feeling, and when he spoke neither of you were quite sure if he had meant to say his final words at all. “He promised if I took it and didn’t say a word he wouldn’t hurt Mokuba.”

Silence again fell upon the bedroom once Seto had finished his somewhat vague explanation of the source of his nightmare. Though, it was more than you’d ever in a million years expected him to share with you, with anyone for that matter. As the silence stretched, anger boiled inside of the pit of your stomach and up to your chest. Your grip on his hand tightened and you took a deep breath, attempting to hold in the slew of unfavorable words but really, you didn’t have that kind of self-control. In that moment you had to switch to English because goddammit there just weren’t near enough swears in Japanese to really encapsulate just how you felt about Gozaburo Kaiba.

“That asshole. That no-good piece of shit _bastard_. How can someone do that to a defenseless child? Like it’s a fucking power trip. That… scum of the fucking earth--”

“What--”

“--And how dare he hurt you how _dare_ he lay a hand on you. On a fucking kid. And then to have the fucking _nerve_ to threaten Mokuba? If he were still alive I would… well I would....” You stopped yourself when you realized Seto had turned to look at you with a bewildered expression. You clamped your mouth shut and let in a long breath through your nostrils, trying to cool your boiling blood as you realized this was probably not at all the way to react to someone telling you they had been abused. You were supposed to be calm and sympathetic, not just blurt out murderous intent for Seto’s adoptive father, right? You really hoped you hadn’t fucked up and made him never want to tell you about his past again.

“Wow.” Was all Seto could mutter.

“Sorry, that… I shouldn’t have gotten so angry.” You quickly loosened your grip on his hand and shook your head. As you made to pull your hand away, he tightened his own grip, forcing your fingers in place with his.

“No, not that. I’m just surprised.”

“Huh, why?” 

“I was expecting you to act condolent and pity me,” he said icily, the way he spoke it was as if pitying him would have been worse than all the abuse he’d endured as a child. 

Again, you weren’t sure how to respond, so you merely opted to return to running your thumb back and forth on the back of his hand, partly as a calming exercise for yourself. In the moonlight lilting through the drawn curtains across the bedroom you could see his face as he looked at anything but you, eyes blinking slowly like they did when he was thinking of something to say. You sat quietly and allowed him silence as he thought, while trying desperately to push away any images of a ten-year-old Seto taking a belt to his back or with bruises littering his arms. 

“You don’t think I’m weak.” He said finally, as if he couldn’t decide if it were a statement or a question.

You blinked up at him in surprise by his sudden remark, trying to figure out where it had come from. Nothing either of you had said would imply he was weak, unless it was something Gozaburo had tried to convince him off when he was young. You had to take a moment to swallow and let out a long breath to keep yourself from diving off into another rant against the dead man. You wondered if the reason your boyfriend was so adamant about being strong and powerful was because of what had happened to him as a kid. Was it because Gozaburo had insisted strength was the only way to survive, or because Seto never wanted to put himself in a position to get hurt again? Both?

You really wanted to bring the bastard back from the grave just so you could sock him in the jaw.

“You protected Mokuba for years,” you began at last, “There’s nothing weak about that.”

He scoffed like he didn’t believe you.

“Seto there are a lot of words to describe you, some of them less than savory,” you admitted with a sarcastic half-chuckle, “But ‘weak’ will never be one of them.” You assured, using your free hand to reach up to his face and brush any lingering bangs still stuck to him away, before planting a kiss on his forehead. 

He sighed and pushed you off his face, wriggling his hand free of yours and reaching behind him to flip his pillow over before wrapping his arms around your waist. He dragged you back down with him onto the pillow, and kept a strong grip on you so you couldn’t wiggle away, not that you would have tried. Well, you kind of wanted to since his arm was digging uncomfortably into your side and his chest was still somewhat damp against your own bare skin. You decided, however, to merely adjust yourself down a little so you could rest your cheek against his shoulder, kissing his neck a few times until he inched it away from you and sighed. 

You closed your eyes and whispered your loves and goodnights, opting not to say anything about how his fingertips were still trembling against your skin.


	14. The Dress of Thought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK AT ALL THE MISUNDERSTANDINGS I'M CAUSING

Seto was scouring over a large stack of papers, with those he’d already read or signed sprawled across his desk in such a disaster it reminded you of the aftermath of a tornado. His laptop was perched on the corner of his desk, the only free space on the workspace, and you were a little scared that it would fall off if he accidentally bumped it. He looked like he could pass out at any moment from the lack of sleep this past week, once or twice tonight you noticed him rubbing his eyes when they clouded over, as if having a hard time focusing on the work in front of him. He reached for his coffee thermos and put it to his lips but frowned when, presumably, no caffeinated liquid came out. 

“You want me to get you another cup?” You offered. 

“That’s what my secretary is for.”

“Seto, Aiko already went home.”

Your boyfriend quickly glanced to the clock on his laptop screen, immediately frowning as if he hadn’t realized the time. It was a few minutes past eight, which meant he had been in his office for thirteen hours straight. Had you not already said he should come home for dinner and take a break, before being promptly chewed out by him, you would have insisted upon it now. But with him almost finished with damage control with the Souzou release hiccups, he was so put-out that you had to walk on eggshells around him now more than ever.

You closed your textbook with a pen inside to hold your page, and set it in the chair next to you since there was really no space on his desk to speak of. You pushed yourself out of the chair in front of his desk and grabbed the thermos from his hand gently, offering him a tired smile. To the very left side of his office, next to a mostly decorative bookshelf, was a small table with a coffee pot, a small water bubbler, and some packets of expensive tea. 

The coffee pot was nearly empty, so you dumped what little remained into the thermos and brought it back to him before setting to make another pot. You debated between making enough to fill it halfway or entirely, before deciding if he didn’t drink an entire pot tonight (which he probably would) he would have some for the morning. 

You didn’t really like the idea of your boyfriend living almost entirely off of coffee and the occasional energy drink, but you didn’t have much control of his habits. You scooped an unhealthy amount of coffee grounds into the filter before picking up the pot and taking it out of his office, past Aiko’s desk, to the private bathroom at the end of the waiting room. You turned on the faucet and began filling the pot with water, looking into the mirror as you did so, noting how your lipstick had faded from your lips and stained them a dull pink. 

When you returned to the office to pour the pot of water into the back of the coffee maker and return the pot to its dock, Seto had haphazardly shoved the pile of papers aside and put the laptop in front of him. The sound of rapid typing filled the otherwise silent office. Seto had finished the remaining coffee you’d poured him but despite the burst of energy, you notice that his body had apparently forgotten to blink for a solid minute. Your boyfriend had to stop his typing to reach up and rub his red eyes again, a frown plastered to his lips. 

“Do you want some eye drops?” You offered, “I have some in my bag if you--”

“I’m not weak.” He said angrily. 

“What? I didn’t say you were…” you said softly, “Your eyes just look pretty red and I wanted to help--”

“I don’t need your help. I’m fine.”

“Seto, I just… okay if you use the eyedrops you won’t be rubbing your eyes so much and you’ll have more time to type.” You should have stopped talking, you knew you should have. But normally he responded so well to rationality, you thought it might have worked. “Rationally speaking--”

“You think I’m not being rational?” He snapped.

“That’s not what I meant,” you said quickly, “I meant… you know what, I’m just gonna shut up.”

“Excellent. Then I can get back to work.”

You sighed, walking back to the chair you’d previously been working in and returning your textbook to your lap. Stressed or not, Seto was starting to get on your last nerve this week, especially with how much work of your own you had to do with the fashion show less than a week away.

Other than when you got up to fill his thermos with coffee several minutes later, the two of you worked in silence for nearly an hour. You had eventually migrated yourself to the couch in the back of his office when you needed more space to do your homework. You’d also slipped a single earbud into your ear and put on some quiet music to help you focus on your work (and keep focus off of your boyfriend).

It was nearly nine when Seto’s heavy office door burst open, and quick, loud footfalls came racing into the room. He didn’t look up from his work as Mokuba ran to his desk and about slammed a manilla folder onto the tabletop. 

“ _Nii-sama_ , look! Look what I found!” 

You removed the earbud and let it fall over your shoulder, keeping silent as Mokuba tore the folder open and flipped through a few pages, before jabbing his finger down onto one.

“Your little side-project?” Seto hummed.

“It’s not a ‘little side project’ it’s important!” Mokuba huffed, “ _Nii-sama_ could you use this information?”

“Use it for what?”

“To get him out of there! What else?”

“Why on earth would I want to ‘get him out of there’?”

“ _Nii-sama_ , Noah saved our lives. We can’t-- he can’t stay trapped in that place.”

“Noah wouldn’t have had to save our lives if he hadn’t--”

“It wasn’t his fault.” Mokuba insisted.

You set down your pencil and directed your full attention to the two brothers, trying to figure out just what the hell they were talking about. Who was Noah? What did he ‘save’ them from? And what did Mokuba mean when he said he was ‘trapped’ somewhere? As silence descended between the Kaibas, you cleared your throat.

“Who’s Noah?” 

Mokuba whipped his head around and looked down at you, eyes going wide as if he’d just realized you had been sitting at the couch. From his sudden nervousness, you assumed you were not supposed to have heard what you just did. 

“Noah Kaiba,” Seto drawled dismissively.

“A relative?”

“Our brother,” Mokuba admitted.

“You guys have another brother?” That was some fairly big information for you to not have known. 

“Uh… sort of. Well he died before we got to really meet him. It’s kind of a long story,” Mokuba said, “But basically he died in an accident before we moved here, and his brain was stored in a super-computer. We met him in a virtual world and he… kinda tried to kill us?” 

“Well that’s not very brotherly,” you muttered. “I’m a little confused though. How did you not meet him if he was your brother?”

“He was Gozaburo’s son,” Mokuba explained. 

“So he was like an actual Kaiba?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Seto spat. 

Both you and Mokuba looked up at him, bewildered. He had torn his gaze away from his laptop screen, sapphire eyes fixed upon you like two gleaming daggers. 

“ _Nii-sama_ I don’t think she meant--”

“Meant what?”

In hindsight, you should have chosen your words more carefully, especially considering the terrible mood Seto had been over the past few weeks. One of the problems with the Japanese language was that is was far less tonal than English, in that words were taken much more literally. If you said “an actual Kaiba” in English it wouldn’t sound quite as harsh, but in Japanese it sounded as if you were insinuating Seto and Mokuba were not worthy of the Kaiba name. 

It was probably the hardest thing about speaking the language considering you were a very sarcastic, non-literal person by nature, which did not often translate well. Usually Seto was quite good at interpreting the meaning of your words since he was fluent in both languages. Rather than doing any interpreting, however, he had taken your words at face value, which was quite rare for him. If anything, it shone a spotlight on how very stressed and on-edge the man was. 

“I _worked_ for this name,” Seto said angrily, “If anything, I’m more a Kaiba than that brat would have ever been.”

“Woah, okay, chill. I didn’t mean ‘actual’ like undeserving or whatever. I meant like…. Biological.”

“Why didn’t you say ‘biological’ then?” 

“Because Japanese... I’m not used to words being so literal.”

“You’ve been speaking Japanese for the past three years, how do you still not understand the nuances of the language?” He accused.

“Three years does not equate to the mastery of a language.”

“I can easily master a language in three years.”

You rolled your eyes, “Well I’m sorry we can’t all be geniuses like you. I’m sure that makes life so difficult for you.” 

“You don’t have to be a genius, you merely have to stop being lazy.”

You pointedly glared at him, tapping your thumb on the side of the table while you tried to think of something to say. You had to remind yourself that anything else you did say would probably launch the man into a frenzy, so you bit down on your tongue and kept silent, shaking your head.

“Mokuba, even if I could extract his mind-- and I’m not saying I can right now-- what exactly would I do with him?” Seto returned his attention back to his brother, making it a point to ignore you and easily switch back to the previous conversation.

“I… I don’t know. You could… put him in a robot or something?”

“You want me to put Noah’s brain into a robot?”

“Well… yeah why not?”

“Why not? Ignoring any sort of morality issues associated with putting the brain of a child into a robot whose body doesn’t age or function like a human being,” Seto began impatiently, eyes dark, “I would never bring him here where he would put this company at risk. Not to mention the potential harm to you.”

“To me? You seriously think he’d hurt me?”

“Mokuba, after what he did to you last time, I’m positive he would try to hurt you.”

“There’s no way he would. I talked to him after… well you know. He changed.”

“People don’t change.” Seto said sharply. “I will not do anything to put you in danger.”

“Then what are you going to do? What better idea do you have?” Mokuba demanded impatiently. 

“Leave the brat where he is. Forget about him. That is, and has always been, my plan.” Seto took the folder in front of him, closed it, and tossed it into the trash next to his desk. You could not see his face, but from the way his muscles tensed you could only guess that the action made Mokuba incredibly upset.

“ _Nii-sama_ you can’t--”

“I can. And I am.”

Mokuba looked down at you, sadness sparkling in his grey eyes. You weren’t sure what to say, so all you could do was offer him an apologetic frown and shrug. He knelt down and took the folder out of the trash can at his feet before spinning around toward the doors.

“I’m going to spend the weekend up in Kanagawa.” Mokuba declared, refusing to look at his brother as he made to exit the office. 

“Doing what?” Seto glared.

“My girlfriend and I are going to an onsen.” 

“Mokuba I really--”

“You already did a background check on here and I _know_ it came back clean so you have no reason to say no. We’re leaving in the morning.”

You and Seto remained silent as he walked out of the office, doors closing with a quiet click behind him. Seto let out a long, frustrated sigh before returning his attention to his laptop. You bit down on your bottom lip in thought for a moment, before moving to pick up your pencil again.

“Poor kid.” You muttered absently.

“What?” 

“Oh sorry, I just said--”

“I heard what you said. Must you make a comment on everything?” He snapped. “Do you just need to hear the sound of your own voice?”

“Seto--”

“Your commentary offers no value,” he continued angrily, “It serves as nothing other than distracting noise. If you don’t have something important to say why do you bother opening your mouth?”

_Asshole._

You stared up at him, dumbfounded, struggling to remind yourself that it was a waste of time to try to argue with him when he was in such a terrible mood. But goddammit if you weren’t pissed off at him for what he’d just said to you. 

_Fucking asshole._

You gathered up your homework and slammed your textbook shut, shoving it into your bag and jamming an earbud back into your ear, glaring daggers at him the entire time. You stood up and headed for the doors out of his office, wanting nothing more than to listen to anything, anything but the sound of his voice.

“Don’t wait for me to come to bed,” Seto said harshly when you opened the door, “I won’t be home until four or so.”

“Why bother coming home at all, then?” You asked louder than you had intended to. You knew he’d heard you, but you didn’t have the courage to turn back to look at him, letting the heavy office door slam loudly behind you. You briefly wondered how he would ‘interpret’ that, and despite everything, still felt awful admitting to yourself that you hoped your words had hurt him.


	15. Lethal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually the first chapter I wrote for this story. It's kinda the reason I wanted to do the time-skip between PmF and BtD.

You weren’t exactly the soundest sleeper, especially after moving into the Kaiba mansion and getting used to Seto waking you up at four or five in the morning when he finally came to bed. More than ever now, little bumps and movements woke you up, if only momentarily. Which is how you came to blinking into the darkness, rubbing sleep from your eyes and trying to figure out just what was happening when you heard a _thud_ come from the library in the room next to you. 

But what really woke you up was the voice that came afterwards, muffled by the wall between you. You froze where you were, keeping your muscles as still as possible to prevent the sound of them rubbing along the silky sheets, focusing in on the voice. The voices. 

There were two people in the room next door, and neither of them were people you knew. All the maids who worked in the mansion were females, and they’d have no reason to be here at two in the morning anyway. No, these were men, two men, whose voices didn’t sound like any security guard who worked the front gate. As you listened closer, you became keenly aware that they were speaking a language you did not understand at all, neither English nor Japanese, so they almost certainly had no business in the mansion. It almost sounded like they were speaking… Arabic? You weren’t quite familiar with the language but maybe it was close?

You reached out in the dark to the bedside table, feeling the surface for your phone so you could text Seto. Tell him there were strangers in the house. But despite your frantic fingertips, your phone was nowhere to be felt. 

“Fucking shit I must have left it in my studio,” you swore in a whisper, feeling your heart rate pick up as you tried to think up a plan. 

Another thud echoed against the wall beside you and a breath caught in your throat, panic beginning to set in. You clawed at the sheets atop your body and freed yourself, hopping as quietly as you could to your feet and quickly making your way to the dresser. Your eyes had adjusted enough that you could see where you were going, and you quietly but hurriedly pulled the top drawer open and began to dig through Seto’s expensive boxer briefs and silk ties before you felt it. 

Thankfully, growing up an American with a father in the military meant you had experience with guns. Obviously, you’d hoped your time spent in shooting ranges and out in the woods with BB guns and pistols wouldn’t ever need to come in handy, but right now you were very thankful that your boyfriend kept a Sig Sauer in his underwear drawer. 

You slid the drawer closed and threw on a pair of discarded sweatpants from the floor, slipping the gun into your waistband and scouring the dark room with your eyes to figure out what else you could use if push came to shove. With the 9mm on your back, you felt a little more safe, but your heart was still racing and you could feel sweat dripping down the back of your neck. If you couldn’t get a message to Seto somehow you weren’t sure how long you could hide out in the bedroom.

Getting to your studio was absolutely not an option, with at least two intruders in the house. Who knew if they were armed, who knew if there were more. You may have had a gun, but you hadn’t shot one in years, and you were already outnumbered. Without your phone, though, you had no way of contacting Seto or Isono--

The sound of breaking glass caused you to jump, and you clamped a hand over your mouth to keep from yelling. The angry yell from one of the men in a completely alien language made your fingertips shake and the breaths coming from your nose sound even louder and more urgent to your ears. What the hell were they doing here? How long before they moved on from the library to the bedroom?

 _The laptop_ you suddenly thought, whipping your head to Seto’s side of the bed where he kept one of his laptops in the side drawer of his bedside table. You practically dove for the thing, pulling the drawer open and grasping frantically for the smooth metal and the KC logo. Dandelion and Ciri had both since woken up, Ciri following you to the bedside table while Dandelion watched you intently, ears slicked back at the sounds coming from the library.

You pulled the laptop free from its charging cable and shut the drawer, scooping Dandelion up in your free arm and quietly calling for Ciri to follow you as you raced across the room toward the closet. You slid inside with your cats, shutting the door behind you as quietly as possible and rushed to the farthest corner, burying yourself behind a rack of dress shirts and booting up the laptop. 

“Come on come on,” you breathed, fingertips shaking as the screen lit up. You were relieved that the password hint was so descriptive, and that you’d been using the laptop when Seto wasn’t around to look into the Von Schroeder family. You quickly typed in Kaiser Seahorse while you thought up a plan. 

You really wished your boyfriend actually used his Facebook account, then you could just send him a message and pray he saw it, but you’d only ever seen him on the thing once and it was with prompting from Mokuba. Plus, you were pretty sure the site was blocked on the Kaiba Corp internet anyway. Which left you the option of emailing him and hoping he saw it soon, because dammit you weren’t sure you were mentally prepared to kill anyone tonight. 

_Strangers in the house. At least two. Breaking shit and looking for something? Help._

If that didn’t light a fire under his ass, you didn’t know what would. You heard another yell from one of the men, now more far away since you were in the closet, and in your panic you closed the internet browser and held your breath. The second the tab closed and left you staring at the Kaiba Corp desktop screen, a terrified lurch came from the pit of your stomach. Recalling what you had said to Seto earlier that evening, when you had left his office after arguing with him.

_‘Why bother coming home at all?’_

What if he didn’t come home for you? If he, or Isono, or anyone didn’t come home for you? What would you do? Could you kill someone if you had to?

Then you had an idea, turned your attention away from the terrifying thoughts, and searched the program menu for the security software Seto had hooked up to the cameras in the mansion. The cameras were only in the hallways and offices, but you could still see when the men were leaving the library or heading for the bedroom. 

You opened the software and watched it boot up, before flashing a few times and syncing with the cameras in the mansion. One by one, different views of the hallways blinked onto the screen, so far showing no signs of life. In one of the downstairs hallways, one of the potted trees was bent and broken, soil spilled all over the hardwood floor. Seto’s office was ransacked, all the drawers of his desk torn out, papers and files spilled onto the floor and books thrown out of the book shelf. 

Just what on earth were the bastards looking for? 

You continued searching the different views for any other signs of the intruders, but since you couldn’t see into any of the other rooms it was difficult. Mokuba’s bedroom door in his wing of the mansion was still closed, and it looked like the whole area was untouched, thankfully. You’d need to do something before those men got tired of this area of the house and tried to go for him, if you saw anyone heading there you’d be willing to put a bullet in them. 

You watched the two men exit the library from the hallway camera, before opening the door to the bedroom. They disappeared from the screen seconds before the light flicked on, pouring out brightly from the narrow crack beneath the closet door. You quietly shut the laptop and slipped it under the clothing hamper next to you so it wouldn’t be seen. If these assholes were after Kaiba Corporation secrets, you would not hand them over on a silver platter.

You heard the sound of drawers slamming open, the two men rummaging around the bedroom to find whatever it was they were searching for. Briefly, you wondered to yourself how they had even gotten into the mansion, how they had gotten past the guards. You didn’t like the thought that entered your mind, that one of the guards might have been bribed, or worse yet, an inside man. 

You turned over a second, empty clothes hamper next to you and pushed your cats into it. They would not be able to get out from their newfound, upside-down prison, and you hoped neither of the men would see them or try to harm them. 

You reached into the waistband of your sweatpants and drew the Sig Sauer, wrapping your fingertips firmly around the base and keeping your index resting on the trigger guard. Never put your finger on the trigger unless you intend to shoot, that’s what your dad had taught you. You clicked the safety off and held the gun up in front of you, remembering to keep your arms straight. 

That train of thought was promptly interrupted by the sound of boots clambering toward the closet door. You let in a deep breath as one of the men shouted something in the foreign language, before fiddling with the doorknob. The second the door was flung open, you squared your shoulders, took a step forward, and pointed your gun directly at the head of one of the caramel-skinned men. 

“Don’t come any closer,” you shouted quickly in English, praying either of the men spoke it, or would at least understand your tone. 

“Woah,” one of the men jumped backward the second he caught site of the gun, glimmering silver in the brightness that had flooded the closet. The other merely stared at you, eyes widening, but otherwise unfazed. 

“Both of you, hands up. Now!” 

They both slowly raised their hands, each looking around the dark closet for something, probably to throw at you. You were not about to let them do so, though, you were going to stay in control of the situation until help came, preferably without having to shoot anyone. 

If help came at all.

“Turn around,” you ordered, taking a step forward, “Start walking. Out of the room.”

“We do not want any trou--” 

“Did I say you could talk? Move.” You remembered what your dad had taught you when you were young. Never let them feel in control. Keep calm, but act angry. Intimidate them. So far, it was working, because both the men began walking out of the closet, through the bright bedroom, and just out of the door to the hallway. 

The second you made it out of the doorway, a black object came into your view and connected with your cheekbone with a crack, knocking you back. You pushed yourself against the edge of the doorframe and whipped your head to the source of the intense pain in your cheek. A third man stood before you, but unlike the other two, he had a gun. It was presumably what he had hit you with. You quickly brought your own gun up, aimed right at his head before he could aim first, and used your other hand to reach up and feel where he had hit. Once your fingertips touched the spot, it stung, and you huffed and brought your fingers back to see a bit of blood on them. 

“Fucking hell,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes and pushing yourself off the doorway, “Alright back up.”

The man blinked at you, before bringing his own gun up.The other two men looked between you two, before one of them took a cautious step toward you, hands up like he was prepared to grab the gun from your hands. 

“Goddammit, I am an angry American with a gun do not test me,” you spat, taking a step toward the man who held a handgun in an attempt to intimidate him, despite the fact that you were much shorter. “Now back the _fuck_ up!”

He quickly nodded, taking a few steps backward as you inched forward, keeping your gun aimed directly at his forehead. You’d have to remember to thank your dad later for the intimidation lessons that, at the time, you thought were just a waste. Though, he was probably going to freak out that you’d had to use said tactics in the first place.

You pushed the man to the very top of the staircase, where he stopped and kept his gun’s barrel at your face. The other two men had positioned themselves behind you, at a safe enough distance that you weren’t willing to shoot their friend, but it was making you pretty nervous. One wrong move and they could easily overpower you and take your gun, and since Mokuba had not yet come out of his room you were not willing to give them that option at all.

“Don’t fucking move,” you ordered, keeping your gun point at the man’s head, “Don’t any of you move.”

The three men began talking to each other in what you were now assuming was Arabic, because you weren’t sure what the hell else it could have been. You felt a stream of blood begin to drop from where one of them had smacked you with his gun, and you were immediately more pissed than you were scared. You chocked it up to adrenaline, and locked eyes with the man who had had the audacity to strike you in your own home.

“English!” You quickly shouted when not knowing what was being said started getting on your last nerve, “Speak English. What the hell are you people doing here?”

The man with a gun chuckled, and you adjusted your stance to be a little wider before setting your finger on the trigger very obviously, causing him to stop. 

“I’m not asking again. Why are you here?”

“We were employed,” one of the men, probably the more skittish of the three, behind you said quickly. 

“By who?” You demanded, “What were you looking for? Who--”

You stopped short at the sound of a bang and footsteps resounding throughout the mansion, at least a handful of people had entered the house, and you were suddenly terrified that more robbers were here. You couldn’t even handle these three men, there was no way you could do anything against more. Even if you did work up the courage to shoot the one on front of you, the other two behind you could easily jump on you instantly. You were effectively stuck in this position, unable to do anything by yourself.

“This is the police,” you heard echo through the bottom floor, prompting you to let out a shaky sigh of relief. “Put your hands in--”

“Do not come up!” One of the men from behind quickly shouted in English. “We have a hostage!” 

The loud footsteps stopped, and you made a quick glance behind the man with the gun to see at least three men in uniforms, batons on their belts, tasers in hand. Isono was in front of them, a pistol in his hand and brow furrowed when he saw you were the ‘hostage’. Though, you thought hostage a less than apt word considering you had a gun, too.

“Step away from her,” Isono yelled from the bottom of the stairs, but you kept your eyes locked on the gun you were staring down. “Step away or I’m going to shoot!”

“What is he saying?” One of the men behind you demanded. 

“I don’t think they speak Japanese,” you shouted back to Isono, ignoring the other two men and refocusing on the one in front of you. 

“Get the hell away from her,” came Seto’s angry voice, in clear English, and you held a breath in your throat for a moment.

_He came._

“I make the demands--”

“I’m not telling you again!” Isono interrupted, “I will shoot you!”

“We-- not moving before we get what we came for,” The man in front of you shouted in quick, butchered English, jabbing the gun he was holding closer to you and moving his finger onto the trigger. You moved your second hand up to steady the gun in front of you. “Even if I must--”

And there was a loud bang, and a ringing, and your heart about jumped out of your chest as you tried desperately to calm yourself down. A gunshot had gone off, and immediately you were terrified. But you had not fired the 9mm in your hands, your finger still resting precariously on the trigger. And you were not bleeding, there was not a bullet in you, so the man standing in front of you had not shot. 

And then the man standing in front of you was no longer quite standing anymore, he was falling, falling to the floor. His gun clattered to the floor and his body crumpled in front of you, life draining from his eyes and mouth hanging open in shock or surprise or fear. You watched, wide-eyed, as a steady stream of blood began to pour from the back of his head, dripping onto the step just below, and falling in a slow waterfall down the imperial staircase, one step at a time. 

One of the men from behind you shouted something foreign to your ears, and you whirled your head around but could not will the rest of your body to move too. Your arms were frozen in place, aiming the gun at where that third man’s head had been a second ago. You managed to tear your finger from the trigger but could not do any more, hands shaking as you tried to remember to breathe. 

_What the hell just happened?_

Then Isono was shouting something but you were not listening, it all just sounded like noise. And the two men behind you were being swarmed by police officers who completely ignored your presence. You blinked rapidly and turned your head back to look again at the now dead man on the hardwood floor, staring into his empty pupils and trying to process just what the hell was going on. Who he was, why he and the other two nameless men were in the mansion, and who had shot him. It must have been Isono, right?

Above you came the calm, even voice of Seto who had seemingly just appeared in front of you. But you had not been listening to him, or maybe you did not understand him, because again it just sounded like a muted, jumbled noise. 

“Let go of the gun,” he said again, this time slower and in English. You blinked up at him, then at the gun in your hands, before nodding. And though you knew you had to let go, your fingers kept gripping it, until his warm hands were around yours, gently prying the gun from your clutches. 

The moment the gun left your hands, it was like all your strength went with it, and you let out a long, shaky sigh and shook your head, trying to keep your eyes on Seto instead of the corpse at your feet. 

“What’s going on? I heard a loud--” came the voice of Mokuba behind you, and both you and Seto turned to look at the teen who had wandered out of his room, in nothing more than a tee-shirt and a pair of briefs, onto the violent scene. The police had dragged the two living strangers down the stairs and out of the mansion already, but there was still a bleeding body on the stairs, and his eyes went right to it. 

“M-Mokuba-sama,” Isono began in surprise as he slipped the 9mm he’d been carrying into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, “Please, don’t look at--”

“Who is that?” He blinked, eyes wide. 

“There was a break-in,” Seto said calmly, quickly crossing the hallway to block the scene from his younger brother’s sights. “Everything is alright now.”

“Are you okay _Nii-sama_?” Mokuba asked, before looking around his brother to spy the bright red gash on your cheek and the bit of blood that had dripped from it, “Are _you_ okay? What happened?” 

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, “I just got hit that’s all, it could have been worse.” 

“Mokuba, go back to sleep,” Seto said quietly, “We’ll talk about this in the morning.” 

“What? No, I need to--”

“Mokuba.” Seto said firmly, voice hard and strained. Isono had since made his way to you and was asking if you had been touched anywhere else, and you assured him you had not, but it felt like you were running on instinct as you nodded and spoke. He assured you that he and Seto would take care of everything, that he would personally question the intruders. After he was satisfied that you were alright, he made his way downstairs to speak to the policemen who had entered the main doorway, and Mokuba finally, begrudgingly went back to his bedroom. 

Seto returned to your side quickly, leading you into the bedroom and keeping a hand on your waist to steady you. You were still jittery from the adrenaline in your blood, fingertips tapping against your legs rapidly in an attempt to calm yourself as you looked around the thoroughly trashed room. He closed the door behind you and sat you on the bed, before retrieving a damp cloth and a first aid kit from the bathroom. He set to work cleaning the cut on your face, first with the cloth, then with a disinfectant that you had to grit your teeth against because it stung like a motherfucker. Finally he placed a piece of clean, soft gauze on the wound and used medical tape to stick it into place. 

“Are you alright?” He finally murmured, closing up the kit and moving it to his bedside table, before joining you on the bed. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, running a thumb over the back of your hand in an attempt to keep yourself focused. In an attempt to think about anything but the corpse in the hallway, the blood that was falling from his head.

“Are you positive?” He pressed, pulling you into his lap and placing a hand on your back and rubbing small, comforting circles on your skin. It was the first time you realized you had not had a shirt on throughout this ordeal, only the sweatpants and one of your white bras, which was now stained a dull crimson from the blood that had fallen from your cheek. 

“Don’t I need to talk to the police? I have to make a statement, right?”

Seto pulled you back into his chest, holding you firmly in place. “I’ll take care of it.”

You leaned your body against him, placing your head onto his chest and barely managing a hum in response. The adrenaline had begun to wear off, and you were exhausted, more so than when you had first woken up to this whole mess. 

You were just so tired.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come home,” you said softly. 

His body tensed momentarily, before his other arm reached around to circle your waist and clutch you tighter against him. He pressed his lips into the top of your head mumbling what sounded like, “Of course I came.”

“I just couldn’t text you, I was scared that you wouldn’t get the email,” you breathed, fingers gently gripping onto his shirt as you felt them shake. At tired as you were, the loss of adrenaline also meant you were now keenly aware of your earlier situation, how close you had come to getting yourself killed. Or worse, getting Mokuba killed. What was most frustrating was that you did not know who they were or why it had happened. You felt a hot tear roll down your cheek, followed by another and another, and you buried your face into his shirt as your chest rose and fell in soft sobs.

“I will never let those bastards get away with hurting you,” he assured, this time more clearly since he didn’t speak into your hair.

“I’m sorry for what I said in your office. I didn’t mean--”

“I know,” he shushed you.

“I was so scared,” you whimpered. 

“I know.” 

“I was…” you choked between heaving breaths, “I was so…”

“I know,” he repeated, continuing to rub circles on your back as you cried. 

“I love you.” 

“I…”

He paused, and a silence filled the air, only accompanied by your weeping and sobbing into his chest. You sniffled to keep your nose from running and getting snot all over his nice dress shirt, but it was probably too late for that, and you doubted he cared much considering the circumstances. Seto returned his face to the top of your head, again pressing his lips into your hair so his next words were somewhat muffled. But still, you heard them, heard them for the first time, clear as day.

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Paydirt.
> 
> I've always been of the opinion that Kaiba wouldn't ever admit to loving someone unless it's for some big event. Like an engagement, or after some kind of tragedy. I decided to roll with that for this particular scenario. So, even though the chapter was kinda intense, at least we get the payoff of our darling boyfriend saying something sweet. :3
> 
> Precious Reader-chan seems prone to break-ins, huh? What is this, twice now in three years? Whoops~


	16. The Usual Suspects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There might be more typos in here than usual, so please forgive me! And feel free to point em out.

Seto made it a point to stay with you the entire night, one arm draped around your body as you rested your cheek against his shoulder, the other typing furiously at his phone. You found yourself unable to sleep, not because you weren’t tired -- you were exhausted-- but because there was a nagging fear that something terrible would happen the moment you closed your eyes. You’d often been the type of person to laugh at people in horror movies for overreacting or being overly paranoid, but now that you had been in a terrifying scenario, you felt just like those characters. Scared to close your eyes, scared to let go of Seto, lest you be thrown into another situation where you were in danger. 

Natalia had brought you a cup of chamomile tea somewhere close to five in the morning, when Seto had insisted you had to get some sleep and assured you he would not leave your side until you awoke in the morning. You had ended up passing out from the fatigue well after dim light glittered through the dull grey clouds of the grim morning. 

To his credit, your boyfriend had not broken his promise. He stayed with you until close to noon when you finally stirred, though it may have been out of pure necessity because you found yourself clutching at his shirt so hard your knuckles were white and your joints were sore. He had moved his laptop onto his abdomen and was typing rhythmically on the keyboard. When he noticed you were awake, he moved it carefully off his body and onto the bedside table, before gently prying your hand from the front of his shirt, leaving behind a ring of ugly wrinkles.

“You were whimpering in your sleep,” he remarked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Sorry, was I loud?”

“Very.”

You turned your gaze down to his lap, where Dandelion had made himself comfortable. You vividly remembered dumping a clothing hamper over your cats and forgetting about the in the closet, and felt relief wash over you at the fact that they had been let out. You glanced absently to Seto’s laptop, where he had open an email to the head of his PR department. You could barely make out the words ‘violent robbery’ and ‘Kaiba mansion’ so you assumed it had something to do with reports on what had happened last night. 

God, it was still morning and it sounded like the incident was already a front-page story. At least you hadn’t shot anyone. 

“Is everything okay?” You murmured. 

“In what regard?” 

“Did they take anything? Is the company okay?”

“They did not, and it’s fine,” he replied curtly. 

“Do you know what they were looking for?”

“I’m taking care of it.”

“Do you know who sent them? Or who they--”

“I said I’m taking care of it.”

You hummed dejectedly, burying your face into his chest to keep yourself from growing too annoyed with his very obvious attempt to keep you from involving yourself further. You wondered briefly if he really thought it would work. 

“Is Mokuba alright?” You muttered.

“He’s fine. He’s already run off to the onsen with his ‘girlfriend’.”

You nodded as he pushed you off his chest and Dandelion from his lap, and you watched him get up from the bed and unbutton his white shirt, wrinkled and stained on the shoulder with a little smudge of mascara. He walked over to the closet, running a hand through his hair, and mumbling something in response to a tiny meow from Ciri you barely heard. 

You took the opportunity to roll to the edge of the bed and get a closer look at the email he had open, quickly skimming through until you read ‘...if you allow a single reporter anywhere near her you will find it impossible to get the new job you will need.’ Your boyfriend was scary. 

You tore the tangle of sheets from your body and moved to the bathroom, brushing your teeth and removing the gauze stuck to your face. You hummed as you took a long look at your face. An ugly, crimson cut ran across your cheekbone, the source of the rust colored stain on the white bra you'd worn all night. 

“Well fuck I hope this doesn't scar.”

Seto’s form came into view from the mirror, eyes immediately falling onto the wound, and an anger you almost didn't notice flashing briefly in his eyes. You finished brushing your teeth and washed the cut with some soap and water, before debating whether or not to try covering it up with makeup. You figured it would probably be best to keep it clean and let it heal a few days, and begrudgingly removed yourself from the vanity. 

“I'm going to work,” Seto said curtly, “Do you need to go out today?”

“Dunno.” 

“Call Isono if you leave the mansion, he'll make sure you're safe.” He ordered, long fingers tying a blue silk tie around his neck.

You nodded.

As he turned to leave, you grabbed his shoulder and spun him back to face you-- well really he let you spin him around-- and demanded a goodbye kiss. Though he rolled his eyes, and probably fought the urge to call you a needy child, he still planted a gentle kiss right on your hairline, before seeing himself out of the bedroom. You flicked off the bathroom light and glanced over at the bed to notice his laptop was still on the bedside table, and though you surely knew better, you thought it the perfect opportunity to get some answers.

You made yourself a cup of coffee, changed into a less bloody outfit, tied your hair up out of your face, and made yourself comfortable in one of the libraries at the end of the hall. Snuggled into Seto’s favorite leather armchair with Dandelion nestled between the laptop and your stomach, you set to work searching the web and Kaiba Corp.’s private files for anything you could find on last night’s attack. 

Unfortunately for you, two hours later, all you’d been able to find was that the incident was all over the news, headlines proclaiming the mansion had been broken into. Apparently, the only reason nothing had happened in the process was because Seto Kaiba’s ‘gun-toting American girlfriend’ had had a standoff with the foreign men. Sifting through the poorly written and rushed articles, the only thing that stood out to you was how unapologetically racist most of them were, both toward you as an American and the Lebanese men who’d attacked you. 

Otherwise, you’d found no information on who the men were or what they were trying to steal. You also had no idea who had employed them, the only logical leap you’d made so far was that some company or enemy of Seto’s had put them up to the task but you weren’t sure who. You realized quickly as you sorted through the files on Seto’s laptop that the man had more enemies than you initially thought; list upon list of rival companies, organizations, and people who’d tried to sabotage his company or worse, kill him.

You were getting nowhere fast sitting around in the mansion and trying to find answers in files you weren’t supposed to be reading through. Not to mention, you were almost certain that you didn’t have access to every file you needed in order to figure out just what the hell was going on. You set the laptop aside, pried Dandelion from your lap, and decided it was time to take a trip to the only place you thought would solve all your questions. 

You made your way down the stairs of the mansion and pulled one of your coats from the rack by the door, snatching up the keys to one of Seto’s many black cars that, at this point, you drove more often than he did. You figured your little blue beetle would draw too much attention, both because it was a Western car and because everyone in the media knew it belonged to you. With how much you were already in the news, you thought it best not to let it go any further. 

You got into the black car and began down the long driveway, waving at the groundskeepers and the guards on your way out. You could see a mob of reporters gathered outside of the gates, a sight which both angered and disgusted you. It hadn’t even been a day, and your near-death-experience was reduced to nothing more than a cheap thrill to sell to the masses ad nauseum. You gripped at the steering wheel until your knuckles were white during the entire drive.

When you made it to the police station in the heart of Domino City and pulled into one of the slightly-too-small parking spaces, you noticed a mob of reporters being held away from the doors by two officers. You had a sneaking suspicion you knew why they were there, and exactly what story they were trying to get information on. Putting the car into park, you leaned over to the glove compartment and felt around for the emergency stash of incognito gear. You pulled a pair of big sunglasses on and shoved a black beanie down over your hair, briefly wondering what you had done to deserve this much excitement in the past two days.

Turning off the car and shoving the keys into your pocket, you made your way toward the front doors of the large police station, making sure not to look in the direction of the reporters. Thankfully, in your black pants and inconspicuous oversized pea coat, no one knew who you were, and you slipped into the building unnoticed. Taking the sunglasses off, you looked to the front desk where a young man was filling out a stack of paperwork. He gave you a friendly smile when he noticed you at the counter, shoving the paperwork off to the side and standing up from his chair. 

“Good afternoon,” he began formally, “I’m Officer Kusanagi, what can the Domino Police Department help you with today?”

You game the man your name and pulled out your ID, sliding it across the counter for him, “I need to speak to someone you’re holding here. Well, two someones.” 

“Do you know their names?” 

You shook your head, “No, but they were taken in last night in relation to the Kaiba Mansion robbery.” 

The officer slid your ID back to you, “I’m sorry, but we’re not allowing any reporters to speak to those men. You’ll have to--”

“I’m not a reporter.”

“Oh,” he paused and frowned, “Still, I’m under orders not to let anyone in.”

“Under whose orders?”

“Ma’am--”

“Can I speak to whoever gave you the order?” You asked. 

“I’m sorry I really can’t--”

You huffed and brushed your hair aside, pointing to the scar along your cheek, “Look I know you’re just doing your job, but I’m the girl they tried to rob last night and I really need to ask them some questions.” 

The officer looked bewildered for a moment, leaning forward on the front counter as he looked over your cheek. He tapped his finger on the desk as he thought over the new information, before shaking his head down at his paperwork.

“You’re the girlfriend of Mister Kaiba?” He asked cautiously. 

“The one and only.”

He glanced over your ID again, before taking it in his fingers and bringing it to the computer on the desk. He began typing something into the computer, looking back at your ID every few seconds, probably doing some sort of background check on you. 

“Okay look,” he sighed, removing his hands from the keyboard and handing back your ID, “I’m not supposed to be telling anyone this but you’re not going to leave until I do. And I guess since you’re his girlfriend it’s alright.” He frowned up at you, “We’re under Mister Kaiba’s orders not to let anyone see them.” 

“Yeah but I’m--”

“We were also given explicit orders not to allow you in.”

You stopped your train of thought and closed your mouth slowly, placing your ID back into your wallet and narrowing your eyes at the officer. Seto had given the Domino Police orders not to let you talk to the men who nearly killed you? You probably shouldn’t have been surprised, but you were immediately upset. What did he think was going to happen in a station full of officers with video cameras? On a separate note, why the hell did your boyfriend control the police? 

You pulled your cell phone from your jacket pocket and angrily searched through your contacts, trying to keep a groan from leaving your throat. You stepped away from the front counter and listened to the sound of ringing, before an audible click rang through your ears.

“Mokuba--”

“Is this important?” Mokuba groaned, “I’m kinda in the middle of something.”

“I’ll only take a minute of your precious time, then you can get back to fucking your girlfriend,” you replied with a roll of your eyes, causing the officer at the desk to cast you a wide-eyed, uncomfortable look.

“I’m not--”

“Mokuba I wasn’t born yesterday. I won’t tell Seto,” though you were positive he was equally as aware of the goings-on of his brother’s love life, “I just need to ask you something.”

A long sigh came from the end of the line, followed by the rubbing of fabrics and a small feminine voice asking what was going on. Mokuba brushed her off with a mutter of frustration, before returning his attention to you. 

“Fine, fine. What’s up?”

“How much power does your brother have over the police?”

“Uh, depends… In Japan?”

“In Domino.”

“Off the record? He basically owns them.” 

“Do you have the same kind of power?” 

“I guess it depends on the situation. What’s going on, did you get into trouble?”

“No,” you began cautiously, “I just need to get inside the station to talk to--”

“Woah!” Mokuba yelped, “Are you serious? You want to go talk to those creeps?”

“Geeze calm down, I’m just going to ask them some things.”

Mokuba muttered something you couldn’t quite understand, “Look, Nii-sama has people already getting information out of them. I think they’re going to get more than you will.”

“Mokuba please. I want to at least try. And I feel like I need… I dunno, closure?”

“Fine. Give me a second.”

A long pause hung between the two of you, and you vaguely heard the sound of typing on the other end, along with annoyed whines from his girlfriend. She asked him why he was working on vacation, and he again brushed her off. 

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“You’re not gonna like this,” he began, “But uh… they’re not there.”

“Who? The assholes who tried to rob us?”

“Yeah.”

“Where are they?”

He groaned, “Seto’s not gonna be happy that I told you this… but they’re not exactly ‘on the grid’ anymore.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that however the police are getting information out of them, it’s not uh… totally legal.”

You weren’t quite sure how to respond to that, you merely stared at the officer behind the front desk and clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth. Mokuba had since shut his laptop and you could here shuffling on the other end of the phone. As you made to walk up to the counter again and see what more information you could get out of the officer, a bell rang behind you at the sound of someone walking into the building. You glanced behind you to see a familiar cherry red jacket and uncomfortably tight looking leather pants. 

Why was it that no one in Domino knew how to dress themselves?

“Alright Mokuba, you’re off the hook. Go have fun.”

“Great. Oh and, don’t--”

“I won’t tell him, promise.”

You hung up and slipped the phone into your jacket, before turning fully to stare down a very upset looking Otogi Ryuuji, running his hand through his raven hair. He shifted his weight as he looked you over, green eyes flickering across the long cut on your cheek from where you’d been hit. 

“Ryuuji,” you said curtly.

“Hey, I uh… heard about what happened. You doing okay?”

“Fine.”

“Oh, good.” He muttered, “Glad to hear it.”

“What are you doing here?” You raised an eyebrow impatiently.

“Right,” he nodded, “Care to take a drive with me?”

You furrowed your brow at him, “Uh, no offence or anything but I’m not exactly in the mood to go driving right now…” you mumbled, deciding it would be best to omit the fact that Seto had told you to stay away from him after his deal with Schroeder Corp.

“I need to talk to you.”

“So talk.”

He eyed the officer behind the desk cautiously, “In private.”

“Ryuuji what is this abou--?”

“It’s about last night.”

You straightened your back and folded your arms over your chest, locking eyes with him. His hand was still tangled in his hair, fingers twitching uncomfortable in the locks. As much as you did not want to be alone with Otogi Ryuuji, you wanted answers, and he seemed to be your only way of getting them at the moment. 

“Fine,” you huffed reaching into your coat pocket and pulling out your sunglasses as you walked past him toward the front door, “But I’m driving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be updating less frequently for a bit. With the last semester of uni starting up, all the cons for the rest of the year, and everything else going on I'm pretty busy. Also, I've got hella writer's block so I need some time to figure out how to get this story where I want it. RIP me
> 
> But please let me know what you thought of this update, your comments really make my day and help motivate me to keep writing :3


	17. Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah nelly it's an update that's rare.  
> Remember when I used to update this series like twice a week? Boy was that a wild, mythical time.  
> RIP.
> 
> Please let me know if there are any bad typos in this chapter, I've been reading through it so many times the words have started blurring together.

On your way to the car you’d texted Isono letting him know you were entering unknown territory allowing Ryuuji to have a chat with you, and not even four minutes later a familiar black car was tailing yours. You felt much safer knowing he was following you as you drove through the city, though you were positive Seto was going to pitch a fit over the ordeal as soon as you got home. You really, really hoped whatever it was Ryuuji wanted to talk about was worth it.

Speaking of, the raven-haired young man looked so positively uncomfortable in the passenger seat of the car that it was almost pitiful. It had crossed your mind that he could be leading you into some sort of trap only briefly, and only due to your paranoia after recent events. But you decided you had no reason to suspect him of wanting to do you harm, and even if he tried anything Seto’s men would be all over him like white on rice.

“So,” you said a little louder than you had intended, causing Ryuji to snap his head to face you, “What do you need to talk to me about?”

You glanced up at the rearview mirror to confirm Isono was still right behind you, and wondered briefly if Ryuuji had noticed as well or not. If so, was that why he seemed so nervous? No, he’d been acting this way since he showed up at the police department. You tapped a finger lazily against the steering wheel while you waited for him to speak. 

“Do you like coffee?” He asked abruptly. 

“Excuse me?”

“Coffee, do you like it?”

“I heard you,” you sighed, “Yes, I like coffee, why?”

“There’s a cafe coming up if you take this left,” he pointed out the windshield. 

You raised an eyebrow in his direction and tried to formulate a response, but decided against it with how worked up the guy was. If going to some out-of-the-way coffee shop would get him to talk to you about last night then so be it. You swung a left and spied the cafe along the road, parallel parking in the only spot you could see a little ways away from it. Isono’s car drove past yours slowly, presumably to find parking somewhere else. You and Ryuuji got out of the car and headed toward the cafe, you choosing to let him lead the way so you could keep an eye on your surroundings. Not like he or anyone else would try something in such a populated place anyway.

The smell of coffee beans and fresh bread hit you as you entered the cafe, and your shoulders relaxed as you took in a deep breath. You noticed Ryuuji do the same, his nerves visibly calming a little. Hopefully that meant he’d be in a more talkative mood. The two of you walked up to the counter and put in your orders, and Ryuuji quickly insisted on paying for your drink since he had dragged you all the way out here. You couldn’t be bothered to argue with him.

The two of you sat down at a booth in the back of the cafe, far enough away from the few people who were eating their pastries and drinking their coffee that they couldn’t hear you. For a short while there was a tense silence from Ryuuji, leaving only the smell of your drinks between the two of you. 

You had, at some point, began tapping your fingers on the tabletop, the tips of your nails making a quiet tip tip of impatience. You hadn’t taken very good care of your nails with everything going on the past few weeks, you noticed absently, trying to keep your mind wandering with how quiet Ryuuji was being. You wondered if coming out here was going to be a complete waste of your time, it was going to be really obnoxious if that was the case. 

Isono entered the cafe almost silently, you wouldn’t have noticed him if not for the little bell that rang above him as the door opened. He sat down two tables away from yours, pulling out a laptop and making to look like he was busy, although you could feel him staring at the two of you behind his sunglasses. Ryuuji didn’t even look up from his drink to notice, however, as if he was completely lost in his own little world. 

“Look,” you began cautiously, your words seemingly snapping him out of his trance as his eyes moved from the cup to look at you. “I don’t want to rush you or whatever… but I really need to know what you wanted to talk to me about.” 

He nodded, although he didn’t make any indication that he was going to speak. You picked your drink up from the table and blew into the liquid absently, before taking a slightly-too-hot sip that barely burned the tip of your tongue and warmed your throat on the way down. 

“I know who attacked you.” Ryuuji finally spoke in an uncomfortable whisper.

Your hand froze mid-air, gripping the warm cup of coffee as you stared back at him. You could feel your eyes widen slightly at his words, though maybe not quite as much as they would have had you not already suspected that’s what he wanted to talk about. After a moment, you set your drink back onto the table. 

“Why do you know that?”

He frowned at you and took a moment to sip at his own drink. He collected himself and sighed, before running a hand through his hair and completely messing up its style, if you could really call it a style in the first place. There was something very unsettling seeing the usually calm and collected Ryuuji a disheveled mess in the middle of a coffee shop.

“Because… because they were sent by Zigfried.”

There was a part of you that had already thought of that possibility, if only because Seto had such a huge file on how much he hated the Von Schroeder family and all the shit Zigfried had done to him or his company. But you had dismissed the notion, assuming he wouldn’t go as far as to send hired thugs to raid the mansion even if he was a total asshat. 

“Since the two of you are working together, did you have anything to do with this?” You asked curtly. 

“No!” He raised his voice defensively, enough that a few people around you turned to cast him an annoyed glance. He quickly waved his hand as an apology and lowered his voice again, “I wanted to come to you because I don’t want any part of this. I just wanted a business partnership with Schroeder Corp. I didn’t sign up to do anything illegal, especially not putting anyone in danger.”

“So why didn’t you stop him?” You hummed. 

“Stop Zigfried? He didn’t even tell me he was going to pull anything, at least not seriously.”

“What do you mean?” 

“He had mentioned something about sabotaging the release of Kaiba’s new VR system but I didn’t think he would go this far. I thought he would stop after the whole factory mix-up thing.”

“And you were okay with that?” 

“Of course I wasn’t! I told him I wasn’t going to be part of any sabotage and after that he never brought it up again.”

You picked up your coffee cup and took a long, frustrated sip, trying to collect your thoughts and form a response to his words. You were not at all in the right frame of mind to merely forgive and forget, having only been attacked just last night. You’d probably be in some sort of blind flurry had anything happened to Seto and Mokuba, thankfully you were the only one who had gotten hurt. 

“Why didn’t you go to Seto with this information?” You asked, “I’m… not really sure what I can do with it other than tell him.”

“Because you’re way more rational than he is,” he replied definitely, and considering he barely knew you, you wondered just how irrational he thought your boyfriend was. “I mean, if I go to Kaiba and say ‘Hey my former business partner sent the guys who tried to sabotage your company and almost killed your girlfriend’ what do you think he’s going to do?” 

You caught the word ‘former’ when he described his partnership with Schroeder Corporation, and were a little more satisfied with him after hearing it. 

“Not listen to anything you say and maybe send some men in suits after you and Zigfreid?”

He nodded.

“I see your point,” you sighed, “Although I think he’s probably going to think you’re a coward since you didn’t go to him yourself.”

“He can think whatever he wants of me,” Ryuuji huffed, “I don’t care at this point, I just don’t want anyone else getting hurt because of the Von Schroeders.” 

“How noble of you,” you hummed sardonically, though you felt a little bad about it after the words left your lips. If Ryuuji was telling the truth, and he really didn’t want anything to do with corporate sabotage, you weren’t sure you could really be mad at him.

He slid a USB drive across the small table to you, and you picked it up curiously. You chanced a glance over to the table Isono sat at, to see him staring at the flash drive as well, one eyebrow raised.

“Give that to Kaiba, it’s all the information he’ll need to press charges against Zigfreid.”

You turned the USB over in your fingertips a few times before looking back at him, his face now set in a permanent frown. 

“Is this going to incriminate you, too?” You ask. 

He shrugged, “If Kaiba puts his mind to, I’m sure he could use that against me.” 

His even voice betrayed his words, as if he was purposely trying not to sound upset about the power your boyfriend held. He was probably right, you were pretty sure even without whatever was on this drive, Seto could dismantle any corporation in Japan he wanted. All things considered, you hoped he wouldn’t do that to Ryuuji, even if he had formed a partnership with Schroeder Corp. it didn’t sound like any of this was his fault. Maybe he wasn’t telling you the whole story, but he sounded genuinely upset with what had happened since he came to you about this information. Before you could comment further, Ryuuji stood from his seat and grabbed his coffee, refusing to look you in the eye. 

“I have some paperwork to take care of regarding the dissolve of the partnership,” he said, “I’m sure you understand.”

“Oh, yeah sure.” You muttered almost awkwardly. In the back of your mind, you wondered how much ending the partnership with Schroeder Corp. was going to hurt him. Back during PAX Seto had made some offhanded comments about how stocks were dropping for Ryuuji’s company, and you couldn’t imagine announcing ending a partnership with the largest gaming company in Germany was going to do him and favors. 

As you watched Ryuuji toss away his empty coffee cup and exit the small cafe, you found yourself feeling more and more sorry for the guy. Yes, you were still frankly pissed that he had somewhat allowed the whole corporate sabotage thing to happen; you couldn’t very well blame him for the attack on the mansion but you could be upset about the factory mix-up. At the same time, you didn’t think he deserved to have his company destroyed when most of this bullshit was Zigfried’s fault. 

You glanced down at the flash drive in your hand again, before pulling out your phone and searching for the little USB port on the side of it. Your phone immediately recognized the little device, and began downloading the large amount of files and documents. You decided you would have a look through the information yourself, since you were positive Seto would otherwise try to keep you in the dark about the whole thing. You felt you deserved an explanation about what was going on considering you were the one who had a long ugly scar across your cheek. God, why couldn’t corporations play by the damn rules? 

Isono walked to your table as you finished downloading all the files and pulled the USB from your phone, and though he gave you a curious look, he didn’t comment on your actions. You wondered if he was going to tell Seto, but it wasn’t like you could do anything to stop him if he did. 

“Is everything alright?” He asked.

“Yeah, I mean with Ryuuji.”

“Shall I give that to Seto- _sama_?” He pointed to the flash drive in your hand. 

“Nah, I’ll give it to him myself. I may as well tell him what Ryuuji said.” You paused mid-thought before frowning up at the tall man, noticing that the two grey streaks of hair on the sides of his head seemed to have gotten wider since last night. It crossed your mind as you looked at him that in all the chaos of the attack, he had been the one to fire a shot at the man who near killed you. 

Before you were able to push the thought from your mind, you asked yourself how many people Isono had killed protecting the Kaiba brothers. Did it weigh on him at all? Is that why he looked like he had aged a few years in only one day? Somehow, you felt like you were at fault for the fact that he had blood on his hands, perhaps if you had been decisive enough to protect yourself a little better, he wouldn’t have had to kill anyone. Was he going to be alright? Would he get in any sort of legal trouble because of you, because you weren’t strong enough to protect yourself? 

You shoved the thoughts out of your head as best you could, deciding you had plenty of time later to feel sorry for yourself. Right now, you had bigger things to worry about. 

“Does Seto already know I’m here?” 

Isono nodded.

“Is he pissed?” 

He looked a little sorry for the briefest of moments before he nodded again. 

You sighed, quickly downing the rest of your drink and pushing yourself out of your chair to stand next to him. Even in heels, you just barely came up to nose-level, and you wondered why it seemed like you were the shortest person alive. Weren’t the Japanese supposed to be shorter than this? Why was everyone you knew close to six-feet tall? You and Isono headed out of the coffee shop, with you absently comparing your height to some of the other pedestrians along the sidewalk. When you reached Seto’s car, Isono paused and gave you an unusually sympathetic look before you opened the door to the driver’s side. 

“Seto- _sama_ has already returned to the mansion, he says he’d like to speak with you immediately.” 

“Oh, joy.” You replied sarcastically, giving an eye roll before softening your voice and returning your attention to him. “Thanks Isono.”

He nodded stiffly before turning and walking further down the sidewalk. You got into the car and gave a long sigh, sitting in the leather seat with your eyes closed for a few long minutes before working up the willpower to turn on the car and drive back to the mansion. You played the loudest music you could find on the radio in an attempt to block out the thoughts that had been swimming in your head all day, the new questions you had after talking to Ryuuji, and the worry over how exactly Seto was planning to kill you when you got home.

And boy was he going to kill you. 

You pulled through the front gate of the mansion, where the guards looked more alert than they had in months, you were sure due to last night. It already served to make you feel much safer as you drove down the long driveway and pulled into the garage attached to the mansion. As you exited the car and headed in through the back door, you hung your coat on the rack and placed the keys to Seto’s car on the little hanger next to the others. Then you headed up the stairs to his office, but as you looked through the open door you noticed it completely empty and still a mess. Papers littered the floor, drawers still thrown open and couch cushions strewn across the room like you had seen through the mansion cameras last night. Seto was nowhere to be found. 

You looked in the bedroom for him but had no luck, before setting to search the entire second floor. Isono said he had come home, so you obviously expected him to be somewhere in the mansion, and you really wanted to get him being mad at you over with. 

Eventually you found him in one of the libraries, the farthest room in the West wing of the mansion. The room was almost a mirror of the library you had been in earlier that afternoon, aside from the red rug on the floor and the fact that the books were all focused on science and mathematics rather than literature. He was sitting in a high-back leather chair, laptop on his lap and a glass of water in his hand. He barely glanced up at you as you knocked softly on the inside of the door, a terrifying scowl etched onto his face. 

“You’re angry.”

“I’m disappointed,” he clarified coldly. 

“That’s… somehow worse.” Disappointed made it seem like he was a parent scolding you. You bit at the inside of your lip and watched him slowly move his laptop and water to the small table next to him, before removing himself from his leather chair. He crossed the room quickly with his long strides, closing the distance between you so he towered over you at full height, forcing you to crane your neck up to look at his face. His eyes showed no emotion, face morphed into a stoic mask aside from his clenched jaw, and you were unsure what he was feeling. 

You reached into your pocket and felt around for the small USB, pulling it out and holding it up for him to see. He raised an eyebrow at the little black device, before plucking it from your fingertips and turning it in his hands, inspecting it. 

“What is this?”

“That would be a USB drive, you see it’s a data storage device that--”

“Don’t be cute,” he glared down at you, “I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re never in the mood,” you hummed sardonically, “Ryuuji gave it to me. He said you’ll have all the information you need on there to prosecute the people behind the raid on Kaiba mansion.” 

“We’re calling it a raid now?” 

You shrugged, “Has a nice ring to it.”

“It has a dramatic ring to it.”

“Right, because you’re anything but dramatic.” 

The look he gave you was a warning that he was dangerously close to snapping at you and breaking your self-esteem in half like a twig. You decided that right now was probably not a very good time to be joking with him, and opted to offer him a cautious smile instead. 

“How exactly,” he began rigidly, “Do you know this information is trustworthy?”

“Well, Ryuuji seemed pretty up-front about it all…”

“About what?” 

“The fact that Zigfreid is the one who orchestrated the whole thing.”

Seto didn’t look at all surprised, in fact his face stayed completely stoic, leading you to believe he had already gotten this information somehow. Maybe it was through the two attackers who had lived last night, or maybe through some other means, though you assumed however he knew it was less than legal. 

“And you trust Ryuuji on his word?”

“I mean I wouldn’t take it all at face value,” you pointed to the USB in his hand, “But it should still be helpful, right?” 

“Of course I won’t take it all at face value,” he scoffed, “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

He opened his mouth to retaliate, but seemed to have some other thought part of the way through, and instead settled on scowling down at you. After the argument the two of you had had a couple nights ago, you wondered if he was trying to be better about the whole interpretation thing. Or, perhaps, the subject was just too touchy for him to be bothered with at the moment. 

“Regardless,” he huffed abruptly, “Even in the case that this information is helpful to me, I don’t like the way that you got it.” 

“By having coffee with Ryuuji?”

“By putting yourself into danger.” 

“Seto don’t be so dramatic, I wasn’t in danger.” 

“You were just attacked last night and you think it’s not dangerous to be in the same car as Otogi Ryuuji?” 

“It was in public and Isono was following me the whole time!” 

“That’s not good enough, you’re smart enough not to put yourself in danger. What if something had happened to you? What if Isono couldn’t protect you?” He had put his hands onto the sides of your shoulders during his rant, you wondered if he had noticed or not.

“Seto I know how to take care of myself.”

“Obviously you don’t or you wouldn’t have put yourself into this situation.”

“What situation? I was downtown in broad daylight with Isono basically right next to me.”

“That isn’t good enough, I don’t want you in any form of danger no matter how small.” 

“I was fine. I made sure I was safe and I even got you some information about--”

“I don’t care, I was worried about you!” He snapped. 

You took in a sharp breath and stared up at his face, unable to find any words to throw back at him as you thought over his statement. Through the exasperation in his voice and the anger blazing in his eyes you could see the worry he spoke of glinting somewhere in the background. You wanted to push back and tell him you weren’t a child, but at the same time you wanted to end the argument. 

“I… I’m sorry I worried you,” you mumbled.

He stared down at you wordlessly. 

“I promise I was being careful,” you offered in an attempt to assure him. 

Nothing.

“I love you?”

He sighed and removed his hands from your arms, and you realized how hard he had been squeezing them when they ached a little in his absence. He glanced down at the USB drive in his hand quickly, before returning his eyes to yours, returning to an emotionless gaze that you couldn’t quite interpret. Even after the years of dating him, it still made you a little uncomfortable when he looked at you that way. 

You raised yourself up on your toes, wrapping your arms around his neck and gently nudging him down to meet you halfway. He allowed you to pull him down so you could place your lips on his, giving him a few short kisses that he almost rolled his eyes at. He only reciprocated when you whimpered a little into him, pleading for him to show you any amount of love. He placed a hand on your waist and pulled you closer into him so it was a little more comfortable, and tilted his head slightly so he could press his lips more deeply into yours. He allowed you a few long kisses, though you weren’t entirely sure how much he was enjoying them all things considered.

He pulled away from you after a moment, removing his hand from your waist and looking at the USB in his hand again. He said nothing to you as he turned away and walked back to his chair, eliciting a pout and a dejected whimper from you. 

“I don’t have time to entertain you right now.” He responded to your pouting so coldly you near shivered.

You let in a sharp breath and immediately cast your gaze down to the floor, eyes wandering over the small golden details that ran across the fluffy red rug at your feet. For a moment you couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him, but when he let out an exhasperated sigh, you forced your eyes up to his face. He had looked up from his laptop which still sat upon the small side table, pinching at the bridge of his nose with one hand and waving you over to him with the other. 

You about bounded up to his chair and promptly plopped yourself into his lap, laying your head against his chest and grinning contently, your mood doing a complete one-eighty. After a moment of adjusting yourself to sit comfortably against him, he moved his laptop onto you, wrapping one arm around your body so he could reach the keyboard with it. He was very obviously annoyed with you, but if he was willing to allow you to sit with him he couldn’t possibly have been that upset. 

“I love you.” You muttered into his body, words accompanied by the sound of rapid typing from his laptop.

“You’re insufferable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on an update for Ghost, too, so maybe that will go up in the next week or two. Fingers crossed.  
> With all the armor I'm making for Blizzcon my life is spiraling out of control and I have so much going on it's frankly a miracle I've had any time to write. BUT AT LEAST I'VE GOTTEN A LITTLE DONE.
> 
> If I disappear for another month I am so sorry, but I promise I haven't forgotten about these stories <3


	18. Paranoia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY IT HAS BEEN 12 YEARS SINCE THE LAST UPDATE PLEASE FORGIVES

You weren’t annoyed by your fellow designers timidly approaching you throughout your classes on Tuesday to ask you about the break in. Although you didn’t particularly want to talk about it, you answered their questions somewhat vaguely, not giving much more information than was already public knowledge. Once they were satisfied, they hastily returned to work on their fashion show garments, a distraction you were thankful for.

No, they weren’t the ones who were driving you mad. It was the ones who kept ‘sneaking’ glances at you, though sneaking was probably the wrong word considering how obvious they were being. They whispered loudly behind your back as you walked between classes, their voices lingered in the hallways behind you, much more obnoxious than if they just worked up the courage to talk to you face-to-face. You were especially annoyed by that one kid who couldn’t have been older than eighteen who had tried twice now to take a cell phone picture of you, both of which you had blocked by shoving the collar of your jacket up above your face and shooting him a scathing glare. 

Before today you’d gotten your fair share of celebrity status at Domino University, first following the tabloid coverage of you and Seto dating shortly after you began your second semester, then after a charity banquet you’d attended with him where you wore a dress that was-- apparently-- too short for polite company. There were a handful of magazine articles that came out every few months when you attended any sort of game-related convention with him, and enough online galleries commenting on your very Western style of dress that you could probably cover the walls of your studio with the photos. Needless to say, this wasn’t the first time your fellow students had spent a day ogling you after the press had a field day at your expense. But it was certainly the most stressful time for it to be happening with the fashion show only four days away. 

Halfway through your final class for the day your professor had called you out of the room and spent the better part of ten minutes asking if you were alright and how you were handling the piling stress. She seemed genuinely worried about you, and offered to push back your final portfolio deadline if you needed. In the back of your mind, you somewhat sarcastically thought that you would be doing a lot better had she not been pulling you away from your sewing and, in turn, giving you less time to work. As quickly as the thought appeared, though, you felt bad about it and pushed it down into the recesses of your mind, making a note to purchase some sort of gift for her at the end of the year. You assured her you were fine, which she seemed like she didn’t believe though she eventually conceded and left you to finish the rest of your work. 

As stressed as you were about getting everything done for the fashion show, on top of all your projects and finals you had to focus on to be able to actually graduate, you had to admit that the massive amount of work was distracting you from the events a few days ago. You didn’t have much time to think about the break-in, Ryuji, or Schroeder Corp., with the threat of not having everything for school done on time. You weren’t completely sure if you were thankful for the distraction or simply too exhausted to be upset with it. As you worked, you wondered if this was how Seto operated on a daily basis, often thinking only of his company out of pure necessity. How the man hadn’t burned out already was a mystery to you. 

By the time you finished your classes for the day and were making your way across the university parking lot to find your car, you were convinced someone was watching you. You didn’t have any evidence to back up the thought, it was more of a feeling. Eyes on the back of your neck, the hairs on your arm standing up on end (though that might have been because it was fairly chilly after a fresh rain this morning). You zipped up your jacket as far as it could go and shoved your hands into your pockets, wrapping your fingers between the keys on your keyring cautiously. You looked behind you multiple times on your way to the car, but there was no one there outside of the usual few students also leaving for the day. No one was looking at you that you could see, even despite the fact that you kept doing double-takes over your shoulder like a paranoid freak. 

When you slid into your car and clicked your keys into the ignition, your eyes were darting around every which way across your front windshield, searching for any indication that you were being watched. When the radio clicked on and began to blare loudly from the speakers, you nearly launched yourself out of your seat and yelped. You’d never felt this jumpy in your life. 

After a moment of letting your breathing even out you worked up the courage to drive out of the parking lot and back toward the Kaiba mansion. The entire time, you cast glances to your rearview mirror at the cars behind you, trying to make sure no one was following you home. Simultaneously, you were trying to convince yourself that you were just being paranoid and that everything was completely fine. Considering how much you had insisted to Seto you could take care of yourself and you didn’t need any sort of protection at school today, you really needed to pull it together or he wasn’t going to let you live it down.

When you finally pulled into the garage and turned off your car, you had finally calmed yourself down and somewhat assured yourself that there was no one following you. Half of you was still feeling paranoid, trying to figure out who could possibly be following you and why, and the other half of you was annoyed that you were paranoid in the first place. Your bickered with yourself inwardly as you walked into the mansion, hanging your keys on the rack by the door and stripping yourself of your jacket. 

Seto and Mokuba were still out of the mansion, the elder would be at work for at least another four hours and the younger had photography club after class. And as much as you wanted to take the opportunity to look into the files Ryuji had given you a few days ago, you were more concerned with getting your last few garments complete for the fashion show. You changed into some much more comfortable clothes and locked yourself away in your studio, putting on a playlist of your favorite music and completely losing track of time. 

It wasn’t until near five hours had passed and Natalia came upstairs to drag you to dinner that you finally left your studio. Your fingers felt like they were about to fall off from pressing pins into your fabrics, so the break was entirely welcome. Especially considering you had neglected to eat anything other than your breakfast some eight hours ago. 

Your boyfriend was nowhere to be found when you entered the kitchen, but Mokuba was sitting at the island already halfway through the food on his place. He waved at you as you took a seat beside him and you gave him a nod of greeting and picked up your silverware, digging into the food before you; a plate of mashed potatoes, mixed vegetables, and grilled chicken. 

“Where have you been?” Mokuba asked after swallowing the food in his mouth and taking a few loud gulps of juice. 

“Upstairs sewing,” you replied, “When did you get home?”

“Like three hours ago. Club was canceled so I tested one of the games _Nii-sama_ has been working on.” 

“Oh, which one?”

“The new mobile game, it’s in super alpha but he wanted some QA testing of the interface and stuff.” 

You nodded, and for a few minutes a silence filled the air as the two of you continued to eat and drink. The only sound in the kitchen was Natalia washing dishes in the sink. 

“So what were you doing? More fashion show stuff?”

“Yeah,” you hummed, “I’m almost done, it’s mostly just hand sewing now.”

“Do you think you’ll be done for Saturday?” 

“Fingers crossed.” 

“Hey,” Mokuba’s voice suddenly went up half an octave in excitement, “Do you think I can take some photos of your clothes?” 

“On Saturday? Like when all the models are in them?” 

“Yeah! It would be really good to put in my portfolio.” 

“Sure, I don’t mind. We have about two hours between them getting ready and the start of the show, so as long as you’re quick about it--”

“Yes! Thank you!” Mokuba whooped, before throwing his long arms around you and squeezing you just a little too tightly. The excitement that radiated off of him was enough to crack a smile on your face, and you laughed as you wriggled your arms free from his grasp. 

“You’re welcome, kiddo.” 

You both finished your meals in content silence, Mokuba finishing way before you did and excusing himself from the table to study for his finals. Once he was out of the kitchen, Natalia grabbed his plate from the island and gave you a warm, motherly smile. 

“Are you alright, dear? You look a bit pale.”

“Do I?” You furrowed your brow up at her, “I feel fine.” 

“Have you been sleeping alright? I wouldn’t blame you if not, after… recent events.”

“I’ve been staying up late sewing, but I’ve been sleeping fine. Maybe it’s because I haven’t eaten much today.”

She studied you for a moment, but nodded, “Well there’s plenty of food if you’d like seconds.”

“Thanks, Natalia,” You replied with a grin, “I think I’m okay though.”

She turned back toward the sink to wash off Mokuba’s plate and silverware, leaving you to finish up the food on your plate and absently scroll through social media on your phone. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing of notable interest on Facebook, though there were a handful of memes that served to give you a good chuckle. Once you finished eating you stood and brought your plate to the sink, and although you tried to get around her to wash it yourself, Natalia took it from you with a ‘thank you’ and sent you on your way. 

As you headed out of the kitchen and toward the front stairway, one of the two large wooden front doors opened slowly, and in walked your boyfriend. A chilly air blew into the entryway behind him as he stripped himself of his coat and hung it on the rack beside him. 

“You’re home early,” you said, “Well, if you can call seven ‘early’.”

He merely hummed in response, pulling at the tie around his neck to loosen it as he closed the door behind him and made his way toward you. 

“How was work?”

“Fine,” he replied. He stopped in front of you and bent down slightly, his lips meeting just above your hairline so softly you almost hadn’t realized he kissed you. You giggled a little at the affection as he pulled away from you, and the two of you headed up the stairs together.

“Anything fun happen?”

“Nothing notable.” 

Well, you supposed that was the end of that conversation. 

Seto disappeared into his office and you returned to your studio to continue with the slog that was hand sewing applique. You put on a Netflix documentary that seemed at least mildly interesting and sat yourself in your chair, curling your legs up to your chest and pulling a long string of champagne-colored thread through a silver needle. Tuning into the monotone voice lulling from your laptop speakers, you continued slip stitching tiny applique pieces onto your dress. 

 

About an hour and a half later, a knock at the half-open door to your studio roused you from your focus, and you glanced up from the dress in your hand to see your boyfriend in the doorway. He had changed into a more comfortable pair of slacks, and the top button of his dress shirt was undone. His hair looked messy, like he’d been running his hand through it over and over. 

“What’s up?” You asked. 

“Would you like to watch a movie?” 

You raised an eyebrow and set your dress on the table in front of you, sticking your sewing needle into the fabric so it wouldn’t get lost.

“This is rare, why do you want to watch a movie all of a sudden?”

“Weren’t you the one complaining last night that we haven’t spent enough time together lately?” He scoffed. 

As much as you probably should have told him you needed to focus on sewing, your fingertips were numb and you really wanted to take a break. Plus, Seto never offered to watch a movie with you-- usually you had to beg him for hours to even get him to watch a single episode of… well, anything with you. You grinned and hopped off your chair, quickly bounding to the door to join his side. 

“It must be a slow work day,” you mused, grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers into his. 

“It isn’t.”

“Well you came home early and you’re offering to watch a movie so I just assumed.” 

He rolled his eyes, “Quit rationalizing and just let me do something nice.”

“Okay, okay,” you chuckled as the two of you walked down the hall to the theater. 

For all intents and purposes, the theater was basically a living-room-movie-theater hybrid, with a long comfortable couch against one wall and a huge projector screen that dropped from the ceiling on the other. The was a projector installed onto the ceiling above the couch, hooked up to whatever the Kaiba Corp. equivalent to an Apple TV was called. There was a novelty popcorn machine in the corner of the room, plus a table with a multitude of sugary snacks well-stocked at Mokuba’s insistence. 

“What do you want to watch?” Seto asked in a monotone. 

“Ooooh, I even get to pick the movie? It’s not even my birthday, you’re spoiling me!” 

“Just pick something.” Your boyfriend reached down to the couch and picked up the remote, turning on the entertainment box and pressing the button to lower the projector screen. As the screen began to lower, he tossed the remote to you gently and sat down on the couch with a resigned sigh. 

As you always did when you were given power, you took went a little overboard with it, and decided upon a good ole’ American classic. Was Seto the type of man to enjoy perhaps one of the greatest comedies ever made, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off? There was only one way to find out.

You set the remote down and bounded over to the table of snacks quickly, scooping up a box of your favorite candy, and behind you your boyfriend ordered Kisara to turn off the lights. You fiddled with the box of candy as you returned to the couch to sit beside him, squinting through the darkness to peer at his face. There wasn’t even a hint of emotion on it as he stared blankly at the screen, the scene of an arrogant high-school boy faking illness unfolding before him. 

“Can I snuggle you?” You asked. 

“You don’t have to ask.” He muttered, rolling his eyes as he reached his arm up and draped it over your shoulders before pulling you against his chest. 

_‘One of the worst performances of my career and they never doubted it for a second.’_

You scooted yourself closer into his warmth, tucking your legs up into the couch so your knees fell over his lap and laying your head against his shoulder. His fingertips began to absently draw circles on your arm, and you wondered what exactly had prompted him to shower you with affection tonight. Not that you were complaining.

At the end of the opening monologue Seto scoffed above you, “What in the world are you making me watch?” 

“Only one of the greatest comedies ever made!” 

“Right.” He replied half-heartedly. 

“Hey now, have a little faith. When have I ever made you watch a bad movie?”

He didn’t respond, which you took as a victory.

Seto didn’t laugh at all throughout the movie (though to be fair, he didn’t really laugh ever) and you were too focused to look up and see if he was smirking at all. You were convinced that the art of comedy was lost on the man. Next time he suggested you watch a movie together, assuming tonight wasn’t a blue moon, you should probably pick some other genre he would appreciate. 

By the end of the movie your neck was starting to ache, but you hadn’t wanted to move off Seto’s chest. He also hadn’t stopped tracing little circles on your upper arm, which was kind of starting to tickle. When the ending credits began to roll, he reached across you to pick up the remote and raised the projector screen up while you moved your neck from side to side to crack it.

“I’ve got some more work to do.” He said, gently pushing you off his chest as he stood from the couch. 

“Do you want some tea?” You asked, “I can bring you some.”

He hummed, presumably as a ‘yes’.

Someday, you swore to yourself, he would utter the words please and thank you. 

You headed down to the kitchen and set a kettle on the stove, digging through the cupboard while the water boiled to find some tea suitable for your boyfriend’s pallet. You made two cups of tea and carried them slowly up the stairs toward Seto’s office. On your way, though, you noticed the door to the bedroom open and peered inside to see your boyfriend’s back to you. You stepped inside and set both of the mugs on the side table next to the bed, peering around to see an open suitcase atop the bed. 

“What’s this for?” You asked.

“I’m flying to Berlin tonight.” Seto said as he neatly folded a white shirt and placed it into his suitcase. “I’ve got multiple meetings with the Von Schroeder legal team.”

“Oh,” you muttered, “When are you going to be back?”

“Sunday evening-- perhaps Monday morning if these idiots don’t know how to do their jobs properly.” There was the slightest hint of playfulness in his voice, he must have thought his jest funny, and you probably would have agreed had the circumstances been different. 

“Sunday? But that’s...” you trailed off as you watched him methodically fill his suitcase with clothes and toiletries in a very specific order, his focus set entirely on the process of packing. “Can you reschedule?”

“No,” he replied firmly, “With the Souzouryoku set to release soon and Zigfried’s recent meddling in my company’s business, I don’t have any time to spare.” 

“Oh.”

He zipped his suitcase closed and pulled it off the bed, and when he turned to you his face quickly lost its passive look, replaced with a raised eyebrow and an uncharacteristic pinprick of concern. 

“Why do you look like you’re about to cry?”

“Seto do you remember what Saturday is?”

Your question only served to make him look more confused.

“The sixteenth,” he replied slowly and when your silence was the only thing that met him he set the suitcase back down and crossed his arms over his chest with a sigh. “Is that date supposed to mean something to me?”

“Not really…” you said softly, pushing past a shaky breath that threatened to make you a lot more emotional than you wanted to be right now, “But it certainly means something to me.”

“Well what is it?” 

Now you weren’t just upset, you were annoyed. 

“Do you need a hint?” 

“If it’s that important then spit it out and quit acting like a child.” He demanded.

“The fashion show you moron!” You snapped, “You know, the thing I’ve been busting my ass making twenty garments for?”

Seto looked surprised by your sudden anger, but the surprise was quickly replaced by a flash of guilt. A guilt which, to you, said that despite how much he knew it had meant to you that he attend, he still wasn’t going to reschedule his meetings in Germany. Part of you felt like you should have been crying at this point, but you couldn’t muster up the energy to feel anything but anger. 

He looked like he was about to say something but you shook your head at him. You were just too angry with your boyfriend’s inability to care about anything other than his stupid company to listen to any possible excuse he could come up with. 

“Whatever, It’s going to be recorded anyway so you can watch it later if you can pencil the time into your busy schedule,” you seethed. “It’s not like you promised me two months ago you would be there.” 

Seto uttered your name, but in a way that sounded less like he was trying to appease you and more like he was demanding your attention. His tone only served to make you more upset with him, and rather than wasting your time listening to him anymore you opted to turn your back to him and head to the door. 

“I still have work to do,” you huffed, “If I were you I’d probably stay the hell out of my studio until you get back from your very important business trip.”

He called your name again, admittedly this time he sounded a lot less harsh, but you were having none of it as you threw the bedroom door open and near jogged down the hallway toward your studio. He didn’t follow after you, but you decided as you entered the large room to lock the door behind you for good measure. 

As you stared at the table in front of you, covered in sequins and applique that still needed to be sewn onto your final garment, you found it difficult to fight the tears pricking at your eyes. Your nostrils began to sting as you desperately attempted to keep from crying, but all alone in the big room with so much left to do and the reality setting in that Seto wouldn’t even be there to see how much you’d done, you couldn’t find much a reason to hold back. You buried your face into your hands and sunk to the ground, back pressed against the sturdy wooden door. 

Somewhere in your mind it dawned on you that Seto had probably been making it a point to spend time with you that night because he was going to be gone for the rest of the week. You were sad to find that the realization didn’t make you feel any better about your situation, if anything it made you feel a little guilty. 

There were no knocks at the door that night, no texts on your phone, and by the time morning rolled around Seto was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good bye Kaiba :,)


	19. Tumbling Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus writer's block is actually killing me

All of your free time was spent in your studio preparing for the fashion show. And, since you didn’t have the will or mental capacity to attend your classes for the rest of the week, you had a plethora of free time. You ended up sleeping in your study curled up in your comfy armchair for only a couple hours at a time, and only left the room to use the bathroom, bring snacks back upstairs, and take care of your hygiene. 

On the second day of this routine, you were taking a few minutes to scroll through social media, looking through updates from your friends or whatever big news appeared on your feed. While browsing through a prominent business website, something you’d gotten into the habit of shortly after you started dating Seto so you could have more to talk to him about, a headline caught your eye: _Japan-based Kaiba Corp. to purchase gaming company Schroeder Corp. for undisclosed amount._

__

_Inside sources indicate the estimated $1.2 billion dollar acquisition will be topic of discussion over the next few days. Kaiba Corporation CEO Seto Kaiba landed in Berlin last night, where Schroeder Corp. headquarters are located, and discussion is already underway. This marks the first time Kaiba Corporation has made moves to acquire a company outside of Japan. It is unclear what, if anything, has prompted the acquisition of the rival company._

__

_We recommend our readers keep a close eye on this deal, as it has the potential to make some big waves in the gaming scene. As always, we suggest consulting with a financial advisor before investing._

Well that explained the impromptu trip to Germany. You had been so pissed off the night before last you hadn’t even bothered to ask why your boyfriend was leaving for a week. You still weren’t convinced that buying up a company was a good enough reason to up and forget about your fashion show. Realistically, yeah, of course buying Schroeder Corp. was a pretty big move for the company but still… you were Seto’s girlfriend. That was supposed to mean something, right?

You were getting a headache. 

You turned off your phone’s screen and stretched your arms over your head. You needed some food and some headache medicine if you were going to keep up enough energy to pull another all-nighter. Looking down at the table, which was covered in sequins and aplique, you were pretty sure you were going to need it. 

As you exited your studio and headed down the hall, you passed by the cracked open door to Mokuba’s room. Inside you could hear him complaining about something, and you paused for a moment to see if it was anything you could help with. He very loudly groaned, followed by what sounded like a familiar sigh through the speaker of his phone. 

_“Look Mokuba, I understand the two of you are upset, but you know I can’t just cancel these meetings.”_

Yep, that was certainly your boyfriend. 

“No but you could have rescheduled them.”

 _“Mokuba,”_ he repeated firmly, _“This deal is incredibly time-sensitive. I’m not going to allow Zigfried to get away with--”_

“Yeah yeah I get that,” Mokuba groaned, “But couldn’t you have waited like, I dunno, a week?”

_“He hired thugs to break into our home.”_

“I know what he did but it’s not like he’s gonna flee the country or something. You can buy the company whenever.”

_“The sooner I take care of this the less of a chance he’ll pull something dangerous again.”_

“Yeah but--”

 _“I will_ not _allow her to get hurt again.”_

You swallowed a lump in your throat and reached up to scratch the back of your neck in thought. Since reading the article headlines mere minutes ago, you knew Seto was in Germany purchasing Schroeder Corporation. You had assumed it had to do with the whole corporate sabotage thing Ryuuji had explained to you, but hearing that he was mainly trying to keep you safe, you now had an uncomfortable mix of emotions running through you. You were still as angry and hurt about him forgetting about your fashion show as you had been earlier, but now you also felt guilty for being angry with him. 

_“When I’m done here no one is going to dare touch us, or her, again.”_

“Yeah that’ll be great so long as she stays here,” Mokuba half-muttered. 

_“What are you talking about?”_

“I’m just saying I’ve seen girls leave their boyfriends for less… egregious things.”

_“That isn’t funny.”_

“I’m not joking, _Nii-sama_. You better make it up to her.” 

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, which you took as your cue to stop eavesdropping on a conversation not meant for you. You absentmindedly cracked the knuckles on one of your hands as you made to continue downstairs to the kitchen, before pausing as you heard Seto’s voice break through the silence. 

_“You don’t actually think...”_ Another long pause as if he was straining to get the words out, _“She wouldn’t leave me.”_

“ _Nii-sama_ ,” Mokuba sighed, more to himself than anything, quiet enough that you weren’t positive if the phone would have picked it up. 

_“Would she?”_

You were not used to Seto sounding so unsure of himself. Like the unhealthy amount of confidence in his head had been completely sapped from him, leaving him nothing more than a normal twenty-two year old with worries and insecurities just like everyone else. The worried part of your brain insisted you should probably call him and let him know you still loved him and no, you weren’t going to break up with him. Meanwhile, the vengeful part of your brain insisted it was finally time there were consequences for his actions, and maybe if he was truly worried you’d leave him he would make an effort to remember important dates like this. 

Now you felt angry, upset, guilty, and a little nauseous. 

You had been so deep in thought you didn’t notice Mokuba had come out of his room, cell phone still in his hand on speaker. He looked over at you and you blinked back, before shooting him an apologetic look for eavesdropping on the conversation. He merely shook his head and muttered an, “I gotta go, I’ll call you later,” to his brother before ending the call. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to listen in on that,” you sighed, “Well I mean… I didn’t intend on listening in but I started and then couldn’t stop.” 

Mokuba didn’t look at all annoyed with you, actually he looked more worried than anything. Probably due to the fact that you had barely slept in two days and looked like an absolute dumpster fire. Your hair was tied back in a tangled bun, the dark circles under your eyes in their full glory since you hadn’t bothered to put on any concealer being locked away in your studio. 

“So… how much of that did you hear?” He asked. 

“Enough.”

He stepped closer to the wall you were leaning your back against and joined you, resting his shoulder on it and letting out a long sigh. The way he did so reminded you of his elder brother, something that filled you with melancholy. 

“I’m afraid I might have made things worse with that last comment,” he muttered. 

You weren’t really sure how to respond so you merely kept quiet and stared at the hardwood floor until he spoke again. 

“I mean… you’re not actually gonna break up with him right?” 

The question was ridiculous enough to elicit a snort and a roll of your eyes, “No, Mokuba, I’m not leaving your brother.”

He let out a more relieved sigh, “Yeah I figured as much. Honestly I’m not sure why I said it to him I just… I’m baffled by how much you let him get away with.” 

“Yeah, sometimes I am too.” 

Equal hints of worry and curiosity appeared in his next words, “Have you ever thought about breaking up with him?” 

You hummed in thought, picking your gaze up from the floor in favor of leaning your head against the wall, “I don’t think so. Not seriously at least. I mean I think at some point everyone in a relationship has the thoughts of ‘what if we weren’t together’ but I’ve never had any desire to break it off.”

Mokuba nodded. 

“Alright,” you sighed, pushing yourself off the wall, “I’m gonna grab a snack and get back to work.”

“Don’t you think you should maybe take a break? Or a nap?” Mokuba asked worriedly. 

“I’ll be fine.” You stretched and began heading down the hallway once again to grab yourself some food. 

\--

_Kaiba Corporation to officially acquire Schroeder Corporation for $850 million_

__

_After only three days of discussion, sources confirm German-based gaming and technology company Schroeder Corp. will be purchased by Japan’s largest gaming corporation. The deal was originally estimated to be worth $1.2 billion, but the official price of $850 million is vastly lower. It is unclear why Schroeder Corp. would settle for what experts are calling a massive undersell, considering their stock has been floating around the same price over the past few years, and profits were projected to increase in next year’s second quarter following the release of their newest virtual reality technology._

__

_Rumors have been circulating that this aggressive purchase may have been influenced by legal matters. An anonymous source who was previously a partner of Schroeder Corp. has stated they witnessed attempts of corporate sabotage against Kaiba Corporation. These rumors have not been confirmed by third parties or the companies involved in the deal, but we expect more information to come out soon._

__

_In an official statement released by Kaiba Corporation CEO Seto Kaiba, he stated the deal was, “an excellent way [ for Kaiba Corp.] to expand their market in Europe.” He was unwilling to comment on the rumors of sabotage._

__

_Schroeder Corporation declined our request for a statement._

\--

The Domino University campus’ gymnasium was one building over from the theater where the annual fashion show was taking place. It was where Mokuba had set up a photography set, with a long white backdrop against one of the walls and a few strobes in softboxes opposite to it. Your models were already dressed, hair and makeup done, talking amongst themselves giddily as they waited their turn to pose in front of the camera. You were sitting on the floor next to Mokuba, makeup bag by your legs and mirror in your hand as you dolled yourself up for the show. You hadn’t had time to do your makeup in the morning, so you were making do now with the bright natural light flooding in from the skylights that littered the gym’s ceiling. 

“Can you move to your left just a little? No, too much… there we go. Okay now--” 

You had to admit that Mokuba was really taking the photography thing seriously. He looked equal parts professional and eccentric, dressed in an expensive black silk shirt, a bright purple tie, and nearly skin-tight black dress pants. His long hair was slicked out of his eyes, but still looked as wild as ever, and he had a pair of chunky black sunglasses atop his head. The gold and purple Rolex on his wrist and gold band around his pinky sparkled every time the flashes around him went off. With just a passing glance you could tell the kid was an artist. 

On the laptop set up next to him that was tethered to his camera you could see the photos he was taking in real-time, and when you glanced over occasionally what you saw looked really good. The angles he was coming up with were incredibly dynamic, and both your models and the outfits you’d made them looked pretty fucking stunning. 

You were glad the conversation he’d had with Seto a couple weeks back about him becoming an art student had gone so well. Seto hadn’t argued with Mokuba’s dreams at all, the elder stating he just wanted his brother to be happy, and that he had enough money to do whatever he wanted anyway. This was the happiest you’d seen the scamp in probably a week; he had a giant smile on his face, one that stretched all the way to his eyes. You were positive he would make a fantastic photographer if he kept working at it. 

“Can I see the photos?” One of your models asked once Mokuba told her he was done. She ran over to the laptop and watched him scroll through the pictures he’d taken, clapping her hands together and getting increasingly more excited at each one. 

“These are soooooo good! You’re so talented!” 

“Thanks,” Mokuba grinned, “I’m glad you like them! I’ll send you all a few once I edit them.” 

You stifled a yawn as you finished up your makeup, shoving it all back into your bag and picking yourself off of the ground. By the time Mokuba finished up taking his photos, it would be time for everyone to start heading backstage in preparation for the start of the show. You requested all your models make their way backstage once their photos were done and told Mokuba to enjoy the show, before excusing yourself from the gymnasium. 

You walked between the two buildings, a cool breeze blowing across your skin in the otherwise warm evening. You clutched your makeup bag in one hand and, again, placed the other hand over your mouth as you yawned. It was a miracle you had finished all your sewing last night into the morning, considering you decided last-minute to sew yourself a dress for the show, but it meant you hadn’t slept a wink. You were pumped so full of energy drinks that your blood was probably pure sugar at this point, and without the mental energy to do any real critical thinking you were basically reduced to running on instinct. 

You made it to the theater, walking past the catwalk and up the stairs to the backstage area, before heading to the far left wall where your ‘station’ was set up. There was a curtain in front of the wall your models could use as a changing room, with a garment rack inside. You set your makeup bag down on a table with bottles of water and snacks before pulling the dress you’d make mere hours ago from the rack. 

It was a strapless deep blue satin gown, with chunky sapphire rhinestones sewn along the sweetheart neckline. It came down to your mid-thigh, a kick split on the right leg just high enough to be questionably appropriate. If anyone in the audience wondered who could possibly have made the Western-style collection you were debuting tonight, it would all become clear when you walked out in this dress. 

You quickly changed into your dress, fumbling with the zipper a few times before you were able to get it on properly, and looked at yourself in the mirror you’d brought along for your models. You hadn’t noticed when you were sewing this dress, but as you stared at it now, you realized it was Seto’s favorite color. He would probably like to see you wearing it. 

Well, if he wanted to see you in it, he shouldn’t have forgotten about the fashion show. 

You had to take a few deep, even breaths to calm yourself down from the thought. Angry tears burned at the back of your eyes and threatened to ruin your mascara, but you managed to swallow them down. This was your special day and you’d be damned if you let your idiot boyfriend ruin it for you. 

You messed around on your phone for a little while as people started filling up backstage, designers and their models mingling excitedly. After a little while, your models made their way to your area, talking about one thing or another. You all munched on small snacks and drank plenty of water as it began getting hotter and hotter backstage with how many people were occupying the space. Soon enough the sound of voices began trickling into the theater, not from backstage but instead from the audience, as people began filling in the seats surrounding the catwalk. Most everyone backstage took that as their cue to lower their voices to whispers, but the excited chattering still remained. Most of your fellow classmates expressed how nervous they were or how ready they were for the show to start already. You were of the later mindset. It was only moments later that the head of the department came running backstage, nearly tripping over the hem of her floor-length gown, cheeks bright red and eyes the size of dinner plates. The design student who saw her running around gathered around to see what was going on. 

“Sensei, are you alright?” one of your fellow classmates, Jun, asked.

“Naoto Hirooka is in the audience,” she said breathlessly, fanning herself with her hand. 

Your classmates exploded into excited whispers. Naoto Hirooka was a famous Japanese avant garde designer, and for him to take time out of his day to attend a fashion show for students was… well, frankly shocking. Kirin, a girl who had designed an entire line of lolita clothing for tonight, was hyperventilating in a corner, unsure how to react to the fact that one of the greatest lolita designers of your time was going to see her work. 

The entire department was freaking out, but considering everything you had designed was about as far from Japanese fashion as was possible, the news didn’t really have much of an effect on you. You had instead begun preoccupying your thoughts with how inappropriate the term ‘lolita fashion’ probably was considering it was based on a book about pedophilia. You knew that was kind of the point of the name but it was still kind of weird how widely accepted it was, wasn’t it? 

It was starting to become a chore to try and distract yourself with unimportant thoughts, when the only two things you could think about were how you wanted the show to finally begin and how you wished Seto were here to see it. 

It was only another fifteen-minutes or so before all the lights in the theater dimmed, and upbeat music began to play. You and your models busied yourselves on your phones until it was time to start lining up to take to the stage. It took about an hour before that happened, since you were so close to the end of the show, which left you with little to do and plenty of time to stew on how much you missed your boyfriend and how angry you still were with him. When he finally came home on Monday you would have some choice words to share with him, regardless of if he was still worried that you would break up with him.

You were so deep in your thoughts that one of your models had to snap you out of them when it was time to line up for your turn. The designer before you was sending out her last few models, which was enough to push away your annoyed thoughts and allow excitement to bubble in your stomach. Everyone lined up near the break in the curtain that lead the the stage, with you standing next to one of your professors up front so you could see your models walk. After three years of study, of sewing, you’d finally get to show off all the hard work you’d put in, and what you’d accomplished. 

As you watched your models strut down the catwalk one after another, you adjusted the sweetheart neckline of your strapless dress. Although you were watching from a less than ideal angle, your chest was bubbling with pride seeing each of the garments you worked so hard on walk past the audience. The months upon months of work had finally paid off. 

When the last of your models turned at the end of the stage and began walking back towards you, the professor placed a hand on your back and gently nudged you as a sign to begin walking. You let out a breath and fidgeted with the measuring tape draped around your neck before straightening your shoulders and stepping out from behind the curtain. You model passed you with a wink and disappeared backstage, and you walked onto the catwalk. 

The lights were practically blinding you, so you were forced to look straight ahead and stop about halfway down the stage so you didn’t risk falling off the edge. You had an elated grin plastered on your face, still in the midst of an adrenaline high, as you raised your hand up in a wave. The audience around and below you was clapping like crazy.

You spun around and began heading back toward the back of the stage, directing your gaze downward so you could actually see where you were walking. You could see clearly the first row of the audience from your peripherals, all still clapping. You near stopped completely in your tracks when you spotted Mokuba, camera in hand, shooting you a thumbs up. But it wasn’t him that almost make you pause-- it was the person sitting next to him. You only noticed him because his expensive watch was casting a glare over your eyes in the bright stage lights, moving calmly back and forth as he clapped. He was in a pressed black suit, ankles crossed, with the faintest smirk dancing on his lips.

You had only fully processed it when you were once again in the dimly lit backstage area, where your models flooded around you and engaged in a huge group hug. The whispered “We did it” and “We all looked so good” over and over again between hushed squeeing. You echoed their words, thanking them over and over again for their hard work and congratulating them on a job well done. 

Your line was the second to last of the show, then there would be a few words from the department head that would mark the end of the event. There were a few minutes for your models to get changed so they could head home with their families and friends right as the show ended. They soon disappeared behind one of the curtains that acted as a changing room to remove the garments and get into some more comfortable clothes. That left you alone leaning against one of the walls backstage, staring straight ahead and fanning yourself with your hand to fight the heat. 

You were positive that had been Seto sitting in the audience, it may have been dark but you wouldn’t have mistaken that smirk for anyone else’s. Considering he wasn’t supposed to be back from Germany for another two days, either you were seeing things because of the heat or…

Or he had come back early for you. 

You models came out from the makeshift changing room in a few groups, most with bottles of water in their hands. Most of the other people backstage had also changed out of what the designers had made them, looking much more comfortable then they had at the beginning of the show. Your professor had gone onto the stage and her voice was booming through the speakers, thanking everyone in the audience for coming and encouraging them all to pick up business cards of their favorite designers from the multiple tables by the doors. You really wanted her to finish her speech and dismiss everyone so you could leave the backstage area and go find Mokuba and, hopefully, Seto. 

Before you made it to the curtains to leave backstage, one of your professors came racing over to you to present you with a small wrapped box. She said it was a gift all the designers received after their senior fashion show as a sort of ‘going away’ present. She then congratulated you on your line, and as much as you appreciated how sweet she was being you really wanted her to get the pleasantries over with so you could leave, as terrible as that sounded. 

Eventually she headed off to offer gifts to all the other designers and you near sprinted out of the curtains and down the stairs, trying to remember where Seto and Mokuba had been sitting in the audience. Thankfully it didn’t take you too long to spot them, considering they were both tall enough to tower over basically everyone else in the crowd. You politely pushed past some of the members of the audience, uttering breathless ‘excuse me’s as you rushed toward the Kaiba brothers. Mokuba spotted you before his brother, immediately shooting you a thumbs-up. 

“Hey congrats! You guys all did great!”

Seto looked just a little uncomfortable with how you were wordlessly marching toward him, though it was mainly because you had run out of breath on your way to him. You wondered if he was worried you would be angry with him, which you still were a little, even despite his surprise appearance. It was then that you noticed that the suit he was wearing wasn’t black like you'd originally thought, it was a deep blue that near perfectly matched the dress you were wearing. You asked yourself if it had been a coincidence, or if Mokuba had told him what color your dress was considering you’d shown it to him this morning. 

Seto tasted like cigarettes when you threw yourself into his chest and near dragged his neck down so you could kiss him. Tobacco wasn’t a particularly nice taste, and it was one you’d never tasted on him, which made you wonder what exactly had prompted him to smoke in Germany. Your delight and open display of affection caused more than a few intrigued stares from some of the people around you, but frankly you didn’t give a shit. He had made it to your show, and it made most of your annoyance from the past week disappear entirely. 

It was one of the rare times that he looked surprised enough with you to not know how to react. 

You tore yourself away from him long enough for a few audience members who recognized you to offer you congratulations on a show well done, and for your models to filter out from backstage and thank you for the opportunity. Your heart was still fluttering happily in your chest from the high of the fashion show and the fact that your dumbass boyfriend actually _actually_ came. 

You ended up getting dragged off toward the front of the theater shortly thereafter where many of your classmates had huddled around and were talking to some of the professional designers in attendance. They were exchanging business cards and schmoozing, which you were quickly roped into. A few people actually talked to you about your clothing line, saying they found your sense of style refreshing, which you took as a nicer way of saying “wow the things you designed looked super American”. Despite your inner cynicism you still felt quite proud of the things they were saying about you, and you ended up staying there for longer than anticipated before finally dragging yourself away to head home. 

Isono helped you bring out your long metal rack of clothing, wheeling it down the sidewalk to the limousine that was waiting just outside of the gymnasium. Mokuba had already packed up all of his photography equipment and put it into the trunk before the start of the show. After getting everything put away, you and the Kaiba brothers sat down in the limo, and you set down your still unopened gift from your professor on the seat next to you.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you pulled it out, expecting it to be one of your models who had forgotten something. Instead, it was a notification from the business website you had been getting information on the Schroeder Corp. deal from. You had set it to notify you when a new article came out about said deal, and the article had just released mere moments ago. When you skimmed over the title your heart almost stopped. You opened up the full article and read it over once, twice, before tapping your boyfriend on the shoulder and holding the phone screen up for him to see.

_CEO of Schroeder Corporation found dead_

__

_Only a day after the announcement of Japan’s largest gaming company, Kaiba Corp.’s plans to purchase rival company Schroeder Corp., CEO Zigfried von Schroeder has been found dead in his office. The twenty-four-year-old was found at his desk with an empty bottle of prescription sleeping pills and a handwritten note. Officials are ruling the death a suicide._

__

_Out of respect for the family, we will not be releasing additional details of Schroeder’s death until the police have made an official statement. We are not yet sure how this will effect Kaiba Corp.’s purchase of the company, or who will be appointed the new CEO._

Seto had an unreadable expression on his face as he stared down at the phone screen. Once he had finished reading, he pulled out his own phone and opened his email, and you reached across the limousine to hand your phone to Mokuba, who had a concerned furrow in his brow. After a moment, he muttered a “holy shit” to himself and darted his head back up to look at you, then to his brother. 

“ _Nii-sama_ , what’s going to happen with the purchase?”

Seto hummed to himself in thought as his thumbs moved rapidly over the touch-screen phone in his hands. You and Mokuba waited patiently for him to finish his email, both staring at him in hopes that he had an easy solution to the newfound predicament. 

“Considering the deal was already finalized, it’s likely acquisition will go through as planned.” 

“A new CEO wouldn’t affect that at all?” You asked.

“It depends on how vehemently the CEO fights for the deal to be broken.”

“Do you think he would? I mean I know we don’t know who it will be but, is it normal for a new CEO to try to break off acquisition deals?”

“If I’m being honest,” he finally sighed as he clicked his phone off and slipped it back into his jacket, “I don’t particularly care.” 

“What?” Mokuba asked, astonished. 

“The purchase of Schroeder Corporation wasn’t one that would create a marginally large increase in profits for the company. If the deal falls through it won’t mean much to our bottom line.”

Mokuba suddenly looked very uncomfortable as he muttered, “Oh, I get it.”

“Get what?” You asked. 

Mokuba crossed his arms over his chest and directed his attention to you, “Buying Schroeder Corp. wasn’t about the company, it was about sending a message.” 

“Mokuba--” Seto attempted to interject, but was ignored. 

“And since the rumors about corporate sabotage were,” he put his fingers up in sarcastic airquotes, “‘leaked’, and Zigfreid is dead, the message went out loud and clear.” 

“Don’t fuck with Kaiba Corp.” You mumbled. 

“Or we’ll take everything you have.” Mokuba nodded to you and moved one of his hands up to run through his wild mess of hair. 

“Both of you stop,” Seto huffed, “You’re speaking as if I’m the one who killed Zigfried.” 

You shook your head, “Obviously we don’t think you’re responsible for his death that’s not what we’re saying.”

“Then what are you saying?” 

You weren’t really sure. You and Mokuba went quiet, which seemed to make Seto even more annoyed. You took to staring at your palms, and out of you peripherals you could see the younger Kaiba fidgeting with his tie. When the limousine pulled up to the front of the mansion, Mokuba was the first to rush inside, muttering an ‘excuse me’ to the two of you. 

Seto tugged you out of the limo gently with one hand, and was pinching the bridge of his nose so hard you were afraid he might pull it off when you finally looked up at him. You weren’t really sure what to say to calm his annoyance, if there was anything you even wanted to say, so you decided to simply offer him a squeeze of your hand. The two of you hung your coats on the rack by the front door when you got inside, and Mokuba was already completely out of sight, probably retreated into his bedroom or the game room to get away from everything. 

“I have work to do,” Seto finally said curtly as you trailed after him up the stairs. 

“I expected nothing less,” you replied a little more disappointedly than you would have liked to. He looked over his shoulder to you, a hint of worry glinting in his eyes. It was a sort of worry that you hadn’t seen from him before, though you weren’t sure if you were interpreting it correctly. 

“Why don’t you… keep me company in my office?” He finally murmured, almost quiet enough that you didn’t hear it. It was less of a suggestion and more of a request, which was particularly peculiar of him. His tone, if anything, made your heart feel heavier in your chest, especially considering a certain conversation between him and Mokuba that you weren’t supposed to have heard. 

You were overwhelmingly tired, and wanted nothing more than to pass the fuck out in your shared bed for the rest of the night. But something about his voice made you worried that if you turned him down, it would put more strain on him than he deserved right now. Especially considering you were almost positive that Mokuba’s reaction to the news about Zigfried has drained any semblance of happiness the elder Kaiba might have had left tonight. 

“Sure,” you said softly, taking the final few stairs more quickly to catch up to him, “I’d like that.”

Your reply didn’t seem to visibly make him feel any better, but you supposed that as long as you weren’t making him feel worse that was the best you could do. Good lord this entire week had been an absolute shit-show. You could practically feel yourself and the two brothers unraveling underneath the pressures that seemed to keep piling up. Mokuba had finals starting in less than a week, you had barely slept in five days, and Seto looked so mentally exhausted you were honestly a little scared for him. 

Seto sat himself in his large leather chair and pressed the button to boot up his desktop. He watched you look around the room between the ugly green couch and one of the chairs near his desk, before finally settling on him and stifling a yawn in your palm. God you wanted to sleep. 

“Is it okay if I sleep in your lap?” 

He raised an eyebrow to you, but scooted the chair away from the desk. You grinned and made your way around the desk and climbed into his lap, curling your legs up to rest against one of the chair’s arms and snuggling your head into the crook of his neck. He smelled like musky aftershave and laundry detergent, and as you absentmindedly looked at his chest, you noticed his tie was still tightened around the collar of his shirt. 

You reached one of your hands from your lap up to wriggle a finger into it, pulling it down to loosen it. You leaned your head up enough that you were staring at his neck, and you planted a soft kiss on his skin. 

“What are you doing?” He muttered, eyes already trained on the computer screen.

“I love you.”

He said nothing, but he moved the hand that had been on his keyboard up to your shoulder, gripping it protectively. Though you might have been imagining things, his muscles seemed to relax a little more.

"Hey," you murmured sleepily, "Did you enjoy the show?"

It took him a while to respond, thumb moving softly over your shoulder in a back-and-forth motion. You could hear the scroll wheel of the mouse moving every so often so you assumed he was reading something, the sound making you even more sleepily. If he took much longer to answer you would probably pass out. 

“It was more… professional than I expected our university to put on.” He finally replied. 

It wasn’t quite the answer you were looking for, and you let out a dejected sigh as you tilted your neck to get more comfortable. The sound make his hand tense up momentarily, though it eventually went back to rubbing you. You closed your eyes and yawned softly, drifting to sleep just as you felt something on the top of your head. It took a bit for you to process that he had planted a kiss on your scalp.

“I’m proud of you.”


	20. Antimatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> July? More like... time to add a chapter to this story.

You entered the large double doors at the front of the mansion with a Starbucks cup in each of your hands, just in time to watch the head maid, Noel, nearly trip over herself as she ran up the stairs with a bundle of fresh sheets in her arms. In one of the rooms down the hallway to your right you faintly heard the sound of a high-power vacuum running. Your parents were going to be visiting Japan for the first time this afternoon, and the maids of the Kaiba mansion were in a determined rush to make everything as pristine and spotless as humanly possible. 

You took a sip of your drink and headed up the stairs toward Seto’s home office, sidestepping one of the maids rushing down the hall with a duster in hand. You fumbled with the doorknob for a few moments with the coffee in your hands, before letting yourself inside the room and lightly kicking the door closed behind you. Seto had a chessboard set up on the corner of his desk, atop a stack of manilla folders filled with papers. The black side was closest to him, pieces scattered on different squares of the board or set on the desk next to it. You glanced around his office to see if someone else was around, but aside from you and your boyfriend it was empty. 

“Are you playing by yourself?” You asked, eyebrow raised. 

He looked both surprised and annoyed by the sudden intrusion in his office for a moment, before he realized it was you and the emotion disappeared from his face entirely. He followed your gaze to the chess board as he thought over your question before returning his attention to his computer screen. 

“It helps me think.” He replied somewhat vacantly. 

You walked to his desk and set down the cup of hot coffee you hadn’t been drinking from. He seemed more emotionally tired than usual, voice strained and the dark circles under his eyes easily visible. You thought on asking if something was wrong before deciding better of it. The past few days had been sort of a blur for the two of you. Seto had been spending so much time at the office dealing with the chaos of the Schroeder Corporation’s president dying that you’d hardly seen him. But whenever you prodded him for information, he made it a point to be as vague and short with you as possible.

“Didn’t you used to be some sort of famous chess champion?”

“When I was a teenager, yes. I haven’t played a tournament in years.”

“Why?”

He cracked the knuckles on one of his hands before picking up the cup, taking a long sip of coffee without bothering to check the temperature first. You set your own cup down next to his and dragged a chair around the desk to sit beside him. 

“After I took over the company I became more interested in Duel Monsters,” he hummed, “I didn’t have the time to play both competitively.” 

You nodded as you stripped the sweater off your body and set it on the back of the chair before sitting down. You looked over the chess board again and were somewhat surprised to see the chess pieces were standard, although they looked to be made out of a heavy marble. You had been half-expecting to see them shaped like various Duel Monsters characters or something equally as ridiculous. The white side was missing both knights, its queen, and a few pawns, while the black side had lost a bishop, a knight, two pawns, and a rook. After a moment of thought you looked back to Seto to notice his posture had relaxed a little since you entered the room.

“So who’s winning?” 

Seto raised an eyebrow at you but obligingly followed your gaze to the chessboard to look it over. 

“Black has a slight advantage.”

You hummed and stared down at the chessboard again, chewing at the inside of your cheek for a moment before picking up one of the white pawns and moving it forward two spaces. The heavy marble chess piece made a satisfying thud on the board as you set it down. Seto watched you with dull interest and seemed to think over your move, before taking another sip of his coffee. 

“You play?” He asked finally.

“Saying I play would imply I’m good at the game, which I’m not. But I know the rules.” You offered. 

“If you’re not any good it would be more interesting for me to continue playing against myself.” 

You pursed your lips up at him, a little annoyed but not enough to say anything aloud. You looked back down at the chessboard and lifted your hand toward the pawn you’d just moved to return it to its original location, before Seto’s hand was around your wrist. 

“I was just--”

“It’s my turn.” 

You blinked up at him as he moved a black bishop a few spots across the board before releasing your wrist gently. 

“Now it’s your turn.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but couldn’t find the words you wanted to use. Instead, you looked back down at the chessboard and tried to figure out what the best move to make was. Chess wasn’t exactly your game, other than the handful of casual games you’d played against your friends and family, the most experience you had with it was an app on your phone which you played with randomised pieces. Now that you thought about it, Seto might like that game. 

You reached for your remaining rook and sent it to better defend your king, listening to Seto hum passively at your move. You weren’t sure if the move you’d made was at all interesting to him, or if he was just doing it as a reflex, but your better judgement assumed the later. You noticed his posture had relaxed again, and the tired look in his dark sapphire eyes had softened a little. 

“I love you.” You said. 

His hand rested on his queen for a moment and he made a small clicking noise with his tongue. Offering no response to you, he sent his queen across the board to take one of your lone pawns. He gracefully picked up the pawn and set it with the rest of the collection of white pieces, before gesturing for you to make your own move. The two of you continued playing in relative silence, other than the occasional hums of thought Seto gave in response to some of your moves. The game didn’t last much longer, within a few minutes your boyfriend had put you into checkmate with you only being able to take two of his pawns and a bishop. As you picked up the pieces and began arranging them back on the board in their starting position, Seto cleared his throat and took another sip of his coffee, before looking at you. 

“You did… better than I anticipated.” 

You raised an eyebrow, “You beat me in like eight turns.” 

“Yes, but that’s still more than I expected.”

You nodded at his compliment as he returned his attention back to his computer monitor, mumbling something about how he needed to get back to work. You left the chess board as it was, set up for a new game if he still needed it to think, and kissed him on the neck before excusing yourself from the room. 

 

Your parents arrived at the Domino City airport in the early afternoon, when you and Mokuba picked them up in the stretch limousine and whisked them off to the Kaiba mansion. Their mouths and eyes were wide open as they stared out the car window on the drive through the garden, and when you all reached the large wooden front doors they were in awe of the sheer size and luxury of the place. 

“You live here?” Your mother asked.

“Uh, yeah.” You shrugged, “I told you guys it was big.”

Your dad merely offered an impressed whistle. 

The first time you had entered the Kaiba mansion shortly after you and Seto first started dating, you recalled having a similar expression to the ones your parents wore right now. They scanned the entire mansion as Isono lead them up the stairs to one of the large guest rooms in the west wing. You headed toward Seto’s home office to drag out your workaholic boyfriend to come say hello to your parents, rapping your knuckles on the wooden door. After a few seconds of silence, you turned the door handle and gingerly pushed it open, peering inside to see his desk chair empty. 

“Seto?” You called, pushing the door open entirely and stepping inside so you could see past the bookcase that blocked the view of the sofas, noticing they were also completely vacant. You huffed and turned out of the office, shutting the door behind you and marching back toward your parents’ guestroom. You passed the wing where your and Seto’s bedroom was and check inside, the king size bed empty and neatly made and the bathroom also void of him. 

“Isono where’s my idiot boyfriend?” You called down the hallway as you headed toward them. 

He set your parents’ suitcases on the bench next to the dresser in the guest room before turning to you, a tight frown on his lips. Was it just you, or was his hair getting another streak of silver? 

“Seto- _sama_ had to take an emergency trip to the office.”

“Oh, lovely.” You groaned, turned to your parents, and switched back to your native tongue, “I swear that man is going to work himself into a heart attack.” 

“I’ve been saying that for years,” Mokuba nodded, “But he always says I’m over exaggerating.”

Once their belongings were safely packed away in the dresser in the guest room, Mokuba suggested you all go out to one of the fancy local yakiniku shops for lunch. You followed up the suggestion with your own, there was a particularly nice kashipan bakery next to a delightful crepe shop. Your parents were excited to go wherever the two of you suggested, and even more excited to try all kinds of new Japanese foods. 

You and Mokuba took them through downtown Domino, eating grilled meats for lunch and stopping by just about every sweets shop you passed between peering through the windows of game shops and little boutiques. Your parents bought a number of souvenirs, various snacks, and a few bottles of sake. They also manage to each grab every single pack of free tissues they were offered, ending up with five packs each by the time the sun was getting ready to set. 

After much debate and decision, the four of you finally settled on a soba and sushi shop for dinner. The restaurant smelled of miso and perfectly cooked rice, and was a pleasantly warm refuge from the cold March breeze outside. Mokuba took on the role of menu translator, as per his request, and you all sat around a gorgeous dark wood table sipping at sake. You ordered samples of all different kinds of sushi, slurped at both hot and cold soba noodles, and enjoyed yourselves for just over an hour before deciding to head back to the Kaiba mansion.

Later in the evening you, your parents, and Mokuba all found yourselves in the large sitting room on the lower floor. You were snuggled in comfortable leather couches, each occupying your attention with your own entertainment. A house hunting show your father had found on Netflix was playing on the ridiculously large television screen on the far side of the room. Your mother had her face buried in a book on her Kindle, and your father was browsing through his tablet and occasionally glancing up at the TV. You and Mokuba were playing video games, he was on his switch and you were going through a point-and-click on your phone. 

“Read this over.”

A neat manilla folder was dropped in your lap as you were about to grab a piece of taffy, and you glanced up at Seto as he set a cup of coffee down on the side table. He had changed from a dress shirt and tie to his more typical black turtleneck and pants combo, though he didn’t have on a trenchcoat to match. His hair looked like it had been freshly styled, chocolate bangs falling neatly to just above his eyes. 

“Where have you been?” Mokuba asked before you could.

“The office.” 

“This entire time?” You raised an eyebrow, “You’ve been gone for seven hours, I thought you were going to work from home today.” 

“There was more I had to oversee than anticipated.” He sighed. 

You had half a mind to say something, but as he was about to sit down next to you your mother appeared at his side, insisting upon a hug and asking all manner of questions about how he had been and how you had been treating him. Your father offered him a handshake from his spot on the couch next to you, keeping his greeting simple and allowing your mom to handle the barrage of questions. Seto answered each of them plainly and with the least amount of words possible until she finally released him and allowed him to sit beside you. The clean, musky smell of his cologne wafted over you, his leg pressed against yours. As your mother returned to one of the armchairs, you opened the folder and skimmed the first few lines absently while Seto handed you the taffy you had been reaching for.

“Ah, your valedictorian speech,” you hummed.

“Valedictorian?” Your mother asked, “You’re top of the class?” 

“Naturally.”

You rolled your eyes.

“That’s very impressive,” Your father said warmly.

Seto sipped at his coffee and said nothing in response, and after a few seconds of silence you cleared your throat at him. He glanced over at you, then quickly away to pointedly ignore the glare you shot him. A moment passed of him averting his gaze from you, before he let out an annoyed sigh and offered your parents a stiff and overly professional ‘thank you’. Satisfied, you returned your attention to the speech he had handed you.

Like most speeches, this one was written formally and contained words you’d never heard before spoken in Japanese. There were a few words and phrases you had to read, then re-read, then finally ask Seto the meaning of. He ended up explaining both ‘akogare’ and ‘mentsu’ to you in English, something your parents became quickly interested in. Once you returned to reading the speech, your father had taken to asking your boyfriend to teach him other phrases. 

Seto sounded less adverse to explaining seemingly random phrases to your parents than you would have expected, but you attributed it to the fact that he wasn’t working right now. He was always more personable when his concentration wasn’t being interrupted. You were just glad he was getting along so well with your parents, considering how stressed he had been over the last few weeks. 

The speech was less… flashy than you expected it to be. Compared to all the other speeches of his you’d heard, which tended to be quite grand and over-the-top, this was much more calm and rational. It was motivational, sure, and reading through it you thought it was a fine speech, but something seemed off about it. 

“Did you write this?” You asked. 

He raised an eyebrow to you like you were asking the world’s dumbest question. Obviously he wrote it, Seto always wrote his own speeches, even when he was completely swamped with other work. 

“It just sounds uh, I dunno, more tame than your usual stuff.”

“Tame?”

“Yeah, it’s got less,” you held up your fingers and wiggled them in the air, “Pizzaz.”

He frowned at your response and took the manilla folder from your lap.

“Don’t get me wrong it’s fine it’s just... different.”

Seto seemed unsatisfied as he tapped a finger on the folder, propping his chin up on his other hand as he absorbed himself in thought. You returned to the conversation you had been having with your father and Mokuba turned his attention back to his video game. After a while Seto stopped tapping his finger and took your hand in his, causing a grin to creep onto your face, and you squeezed his hand a little in response. 

Seto eventually pulled out his phone and began going through his emails, and although you really wanted to you decided better than chiding him for working non-stop. Considering everyone was just spending the evening relaxing in the sitting room, it would be unreasonable of you to expect him to ignore his workload. Plus it was hard to scold him when he was running his thumb over the top of your hand in little, relaxing circles. 

Your parents decided to go to bed early, they seemed exhausted from the jet lag so it didn’t surprise you. Once they retired to the guest room, Mokuba also excused himself, muttering something about some photos he needed to work on. That left you and Seto alone on the leather sofa, his hand still locked with yours, both of you on your phones. After a little while, long after he had finished his coffee, he slipped his phone into the pocket of his jacket and stood from the couch, wrestling his hand from yours. 

“More work?” You asked.

He grunted in acknowledgement. 

“Hey, do you think you could work on your laptop?” 

“In here?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Or maybe in the bedroom? I wanna lay on you.”

He stared down at you for a moment in thought, one of his slender fingers tapping on his leg. Finally he nodded and offered you a hand to help you off the couch, and you took it delightedly, clinging to it firmly as the two of you exited the sitting room and headed up the imperial staircase, down the hallway to the bedroom. You dug a comfy pair of shorts and a loose top out from the drawers and changed into them before crawling onto the bed, where Seto had already made himself comfortable with his laptop on his legs. He waved you closer to him and wrapped one of his long arms around your body, pulling you against him so your cheek rested against his collarbone. You watched him open his email and begin responding to various inquiries and questions, the words sort of blending together. Dandelion soon migrated from his spot at the foot of the bed to curl up against your back, nuzzling at your hand to demand attention.

“Hey Seto?”

He hummed.

“If I asked you to tell me you love me again, would you do it?” You asked, tilting your head slightly to glance up at him.

His fingers froze over the keyboard, and he blinked a few times before tearing his gaze from the screen to look over at you. His eyebrows were furrowed in thought, blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight shafting in from the window on the nearest side of the room. 

“What’s this about all of a sudden?” He asked. 

“Last week was the first time you’d ever said it to me.” 

You watched him move his hands away from the keyboard, bringing one up to rest against his chin in thought. The fingers on his other hand glided up to thread through the strands of your hair, stroking your scalp softly in a practiced, even pattern.

“You felt neglected until then.” He frowned. 

“No.” You mumbled.

He continued running his fingers through your hair and hummed as though he was waiting for you to elaborate. Dandelion let out a mewl as he shoved his face into your hand, and you began scratching behind his ears as you thought.

“It’s just… it felt nice to hear you say it, that’s all. I mean doesn’t it make you happy when I tell you that I love you?” You turned your head up a bit more against his shoulder so you could look at him easier

He sighed and removed his fingers from your scalp, returning his hands to his keyboard. You stared up at him quietly as he resumed his work, fingers moving at a slower pace than previous as they often did when he was distracted. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth before sighing in exasperation, the same way he would when he had a headache or when you were getting on his nerves.

“If you asked me I would.” He said finally.

“Would you tell me right now?” 

A huff came from his lips, “If I do, will you let me get back to work?”

“Cross my heart.”

He stopped typing again, tilting his head down entirely to look at you. His brow was furrowed again, this time with more discomfort than before, as if this entire premise was too alien for him to process. You found it more humorous than anything that he had to struggle this much to get out three simple words, though to be fair he’d always been less of a talker and more of a shower when it came to affection. 

“I love you.” He said a bit too matter-of-factly, making him sound almost robotic in his deep monotone. There was an almost disturbing lack of emotion in his voice, like he were reading words off a teleprompter, yet it still make your chest bubble a little. You had to bite at your lower lip to suppress a grin, watching his face continue to twist in annoyance as he waited for you to say something to him.

“We’ll work on it,” you snickered a little and reached one of your hands up to run a thumb over his cheek. “I love you too.”

He frowned as if he were a bit insulted, brushing your hand away from his face gently before returning to work. You turned your body over again so you could bury your face against his neck and preoccupied yourself with scratching Dandelion. You lay against Seto in that way for a while, closing your eyes and taking in deep breaths that filled your nose with the smell of his cologne. 

It couldn’t have been more than half an hour before you started getting a little bored, and decided to test your luck with him. You figured you’d let him work for long enough, considering he’d been at the office all day when he was supposed to be spending time with your parents. You brushed your lips against his neck and felt his muscles tense at their caress, his caramel skin soft and smooth. You heard the typing stop again on his laptop, and he sighed so that his neck swept against your lips again. Typically Seto had one of two reactions to you interrupting his work with kisses: either he insisted you stop distracting him and kicked you off him, or he begrudgingly gave into you for a few blissful minutes, only to later kick you off in a similar fashion. 

“I thought you were going to let me work?” He hummed, voice lowered an octave.

You loved it when he used that voice, it was warm and smooth and washed over you like the waters of a hot bath. It practically made you melt into him.

“What, is this distracting?” You smirked into his skin, making certain your lips were pressed in just the right spots, “I had no idea.”

He brought one of his hands to your back, moving it beneath your shirt so his fingers ghosted against your bare skin. His fingertips glided up and down your spine on the small of your back methodically, at an almost painfully slow pace. His other hand tapped at the trackpad on his laptop for a few seconds, before he gave a resigned grumble and reached up to shut the thing, placing it on the bedside table next to him. 

You took that as an invitation to push yourself off his neck, swinging one of your legs over his lap to straddle him, shoving your chest against him with a grin. You pulled your hand away from Dandelion’s sleeping form so you could circle your arms around your boyfriend’s neck. The hand that still rested against your bare back exerted more pressure on you, near crushing you against his body. 

“Why do you insist on being a nuisance?” He asked in a low growl that sent a vibration through your core.

“I’m just so good at it,” you cooed, “Don’t you think?”

You pressed your nose lightly against his so your lips were inches apart and stared into his blue eyes. The sparkle of moonlight was still there, but it was about the only light that remained, the rest darkened over with desire and a hint of annoyance. You shifted your weight slightly so your hips were in a more comfortable spot, pressed against his lap, which prompted him to let out an impassive hum. 

“Are you gonna kiss me or what?” You prodded. 

Perhaps it was the tone of voice you had taken, or your cockiness, but rather than agreeing to your request he raised an eyebrow to you and let out a scoff. He placed his free hand on your shoulder and pushed it down onto the bed, flipping you onto your back in one swift motion. He shifted his weight onto that hand so you couldn’t push him off or wriggle out of his grasp, pulling his other hand from the small of your back to instead rest above your head. His sapphire eyes near bore holes into you, his bangs falling around his face in an organized chaos, casting a shadow that made his intentions seem darker than you hoped they were. 

“See isn’t this way more fun than working?” You hummed, bringing your free hand up toward his face. You placed your pointer finger at the spot where his ear met his jawline, and ran it down to the point of his chin. He tilted his head up ever so slightly and kept his eyes locked on your face the entire time. You watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, taking in the sight of your form with great care. 

“You’re insufferable.”

Why was it, you wondered, that those words sounded more full of love and affection than ‘I love you’? The ways in which your boyfriend showed how he cared for you were strange, and yet they warmed your heart all the same. You moved your finger gently down the bare skin of his neck until it met the collar of his turtleneck, tugging at it lightly in hopes that he would obligingly move his body down.

“Kiss me?” You asked when he did not.

He continued to stare down at you and refused to move. 

“What, do I have to beg you?” You pouted.

A devilish smirk finally tugging at the corners of his lips at your question, and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. As much as you wanted to make fun of him for his ridiculous power plays, you had to admit it made your chest swell a little, and heat brush your cheeks. Plus, you really did want that kiss, so you supposed you could humor him for the evening. 

“Please, Seto?” You hummed, trying your best to sound sincere and keep the smile from your voice. “You haven’t kissed me all day. Kiss me pleeeeease?” You tugged at his collar again, this time more forcefully.

As he was about to speak, he was interrupted by the shrill sound of a ringtone emanating from his back pocket. He pulled his face away from you and reached for it with the hand that had been on your shoulder. You bit at the inside of your cheek and turned your gaze away from his face, focusing instead on the white sheets beneath you. The ringing sound stopped in the middle of its second ring, almost as soon as it had reached his face, and your eyes darted back upward to see him toss the phone to the side. 

“Who was--?”

He silenced your question by crashing his lips into yours, blue eyes still locked with yours, and you had to squeeze them shut so you could focus on the feeling of his mouth against yours. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip once, twice, before you parted them, the taste of coffee washing over your tongue. His hand came back down to tangle in the locks of your hair, twirling around a few times before his perfectly manicured nails began dragging along your jaw and down to your neck. His fingers held one side and thumb the other, and he squeezed lightly to limit blood flow, just enough that it made you dizzy. 

“Unimportant,” he pulled away just barely and breathed, air tickling at your lips. “I’m busy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been like 4 months since I last updated this fucking thing but thank you to those of you who are still reading <3


	21. With All Your Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one month? Wow motivation is crazy.

It was the crack of a gunshot that caused your body to jolt. The noise was sharp, shrill, and echoed briefly through the foyer of the mansion, leaving a lingering ringing in your eardrums. The bullet punched its way through the silhouette of the human body in the dark room you stared into, the shadowed head exploding like flower petals in a hurricane. When the echoes of the shot faded and the ringing in your ears subsided, the only sound to speak of was a dull _drip drip_ , originating from the stream of blood falling from the body in front of you. Said body was still standing upright as liquid pooled on the wood floor at its feet, and after a minute it staggered two steps forward, past the door frame and out of your field of vision. 

Due to the darkness in the mansion your vision was completely black and white, and you had to squint to see somewhat clearly. You leaned forward into the doorway you were crouching in, placing a palm on the door to open it to see where the body had gone. As you applied a little pressure, the door made a loud creaking sound and opened just enough that could watch the body’s fractured head snap toward the noise. A large pool of blood dropped from it with a nauseating _splat_ on the hardwood, and it took a labored step toward you. You stood and took a step back away from the doorway, your foot catching on something in the darkness. Up to your ankle you were completely submerged in that same dark, shiny liquid, as if your foot had sunk into the floorboards themselves. You tugged at your leg, trying to free yourself from your newfound prison, the sounds of feet shuffling toward you becoming louder and louder. When you opened your mouth to scream, nothing came out, your cries swelling inside of your throat like a balloon being overfilled with helium and about to pop. Looking up, the body had inched close enough that you should have been able to discern some of its features, but instead it looked like some sort of monsterous black mass, towering a full foot over you. You found your body frozen in place as one of its long, boney black hands began reaching for your face, completely darkening your vision. 

Your chest, arms, and forehead were covered in a thin layer of damp sweat when your eyes snapped open and were greeted by darkness. You could both feel and hear your heartbeat, pulse pounding in your ears. The sheets and covers that had tangled around your legs were stifling, and you wriggled around for a few moments to set yourself free of them. In that time, your eyes began adjusting to the darkness of the bedroom to see the small sparkles of starlight peeking out from the gap in the curtains.

Seto hadn’t seemed to have notice you rouse, at some point during the night you must have freed yourself from his protective grasp and migrated to the other side of the bed. He was still asleep, bangs haphazardly sprawled across his face and naked chest rising and falling in a calm, even pattern. You wiped the sweat from your forehead and slinked out of bed, stretching your arms over your head as you walked toward the bathroom. You shut the door before turning the bathroom lightswitch to its dimmest setting, allowing your eyes to adjust to the pale orange light before turning to the mirror. 

You looked like a disaster, face still lightly gleaming with a layer of sweat and the whites of your eyes a dull red. Your skin felt sticky and there was a nervous pit in your stomach from your nightmare. Taking some face wash from the shelf behind you, you set to work scrubbing the sweat from your skin in an effort to make yourself more comfortable. There was a dull throbbing in the back of your head that threatened to turn into a tension headache. 

Once your face was clean you flicked off the light and exited the bathroom, looking back to the king size bed across the room where Seto had not moved. One thing was for sure, you were no longer tired, and lying in bed staring at the ceiling would do nothing but force you to dwell on your dreams. You decided instead to exit the bedroom as quietly as possible and head downstairs to the kitchen to find yourself something to eat. If you were still wide awake after some food, perhaps you could occupy your thoughts by playing some games or catching up on seasonal anime. 

“Kisara, turn on some dim lights,” you muttered into the darkness when you made it to the kitchen and pulled open the stainless steel fridge door. After a moment of scanning its contents, you found a small container filled with leftover chopped berries from breakfast yesterday morning, and popped the lid off. It smelled sweet and flavorful and served as a welcome momentary distraction from your thoughts. You prepared yourself a small plate of the berries and fished a fork out of the silverware drawer, sitting down at the kitchen bar. 

You picked up your fork with every intention of filling your mouth with delicious berries, but after looking down at your plate you almost immediately lost any semblance of appetite. You attempted to force yourself to take a bite but upon stabbing your fork into a blueberry a nauseous pit began to form in your stomach. Instead, you spent the next ten minutes weaving your fork through the mountain of fruit, drawing circles and swirls just above surface of the plate.

You had had a few nightmares following the break-in, but none of them had been quite as… vague. This had been more like something out of a Lovecraftian short story, told in shades of black and grey and complete with some vaguely human shambling horror. The only thing that really connected it to any of your other nightmares, really, was the same gunshot sound that usually woke you up.

You hadn’t noticed the footsteps that came behind you as you watched your fork draw shapes in your berry slices, too lost in your own thoughts. Nearly jumping six feet in the air when you felt a hand on your shoulder, you jerked yourself away and whipped your head around, dropping your fork and bringing your hands up to your face to defend yourself. You peered through the dim light at the shirtless figure standing above you for a couple of seconds, before letting out a frustrated sigh and setting your hands back on the bar counter.

“Jesus you scared me,” you huffed. 

Seto raised an eyebrow at your erratic behavior and took the empty seat next to you, “What are you doing down here?”

“I wanted a snack.”

He eyed the untouched food on your plate and waited for you to say something more definitive. You had nothing more to offer so you simply shrugged at him and returned your gaze to your fruit and picked up your fork, stabbing it gently into one of the strawberry halves and bringing it up if for no other reason than to assure your boyfriend you had really wanted a snack. You held the fork in your mouth for a moment, body unwilling to bite into the strawberry due to your loss of appetite. You finally used your lips to pry the fruit from the fork and began absently pushing it back and forth around your mouth.

You brought your free hand up to support your cheek, frowning down at the rest of the fruit on your plate. You should have just gotten yourself a cup of chamomile tea instead to help you go back to sleep. Seto watched you intently as you finally willed yourself to bite the strawberry in your mouth twice and forced yourself to swallow it. 

“Guess I lost my appetite,” you muttered. “Why are you up?” 

“I heard you get out of bed,” he hummed, making no comment on your attempt to force yourself to eat. “You’d been gone for a while so I came to find you.”

A silence fell over the two of you, mainly because you had no desire to talk to him about your dream and instead tried to preoccupy yourself with trying to make a tower of fruit on your plate. You managed to make a stack of three strawberry slices, two raspberries, and a blueberry before they toppled over and you started again. Seto seemed to steadily grow more impatient with your lack of verbosity, as indicated by his finger tapping at an even rhythm on the marble countertop. Every so often, the gold trim around his Duel Monsters locket would glint when it caught a ray of the dim overhead light.

“Is there some reason you can’t sleep?” He finally asked.

“Not really,” you replied vaguely. 

“No reason at all?”

“I just had a bad dream.” You mumbled.

“Would you care to talk about it?”

You shook your head.

“Is there a reason you’re avoiding my questions?” He pressed. 

You knocked over the three topmost berries on your fruit tower and sighed, setting your fork onto your plate a little more forcefully than you had intended to. You glanced up at him apologetically, but to your surprise he didn’t look as annoyed as you thought he would. Rather, he looked both intrigued and understandably concerned with your eccentric behavior. 

“I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s going on,” he said, obviously trying to hide the bit of frustration from his voice.

“There’s nothing to help,” you said dismissively, “It was just a nightmare.”

“Typically when you have ‘just a nightmare’ you cling to me, not leave the room.”

“So I have to have the same reaction to every single bad dream?” You snapped. 

He chose not to dignify your grumbling with a response, instead taking your plate and dragging it in front of him. He picked up the fork and dug it into a raspberry, making it a point to keep his eyes locked on you as you watched in silence. 

“Why are you grilling me about this anyway?” You asked with a huff.

“I simply want to make sure you’re alright,” he replied in an even, matter-of-fact tone that served to make you feel a little guilty. His voice had an honesty that assured you he had no ulterior motives in his line of questioning, and it was just enough for you to let your guard down with a resigned sigh. 

“I’m alright, I just….” you mumbled, finding a particularly interesting spec of white on the granite countertop to set your gaze upon. You forced a sigh from your body and described your dream to him, using a bit more detail than you had intended to. When he seemed somewhat confused as to why such a dream would shake you this much, you said it reminded you of other nightmares you’d been having after the break-in. 

Although you were staring at the countertop, the plate of fruit and the fork in Seto’s hand were in your vision. You saw his long fingers momentarily tense around the silverware he held, before quickly returning to their composed state. You imagined that his jaw had also done the same, as it did when you had said something to surprise or anger him and he reacted despite his best efforts. When you glanced up at him out of your peripheral vision he had already caught himself, and now looked just as calm as he had prior.

“Have you been having these nightmares often?” 

“I guess more often than I would like,” you replied vacantly.

“Did you have them while I was in Germany?”

You looked up at him, “I didn’t really sleep while you were in Germany.”

Your response only served to make him look somewhat worried.

“Perhaps I should contact a therapist.”

“Oh god no.” You rolled your eyes, “They’re probably going to tell me I’ve been through a,” you lifted your hands for air quotes, “‘severely traumatic experience’ or whatever else. It’s just some bad dreams..”

“But you did go through a traumatic experience,” he said, eyes narrowing as he searched your face to figure out what exactly you were feeling. 

“It wasn’t that bad,” you brushed him off, “it’s not like I got shot or anything.” 

“Three men broke into our home and one of them threatened you with a gun.” He insisted, an anger in his voice that you were sure was directed at the men and not you.

“I didn’t get hurt,” you quickly caught yourself, “I mean I guess my cheek got a little beat up… but you know what I mean.”

“You could have been shot.”

“I had a gun to so he wouldn’t have shot me.” You knew you were belittling your experience but you couldn’t help it, something inside of you kept nagging that your situation hadn’t been traumatic. At least, not traumatic enough to warrant talking to a therapist. You were convinced it wasn’t even traumatic enough to be having nightmares about, and that your brain was simply over-reacting to the entire thing.Trauma was for people who had actual, terrible things happen to them, like military members in war zones or victims of assault. Not some stupid break-in that had been resolved in a matter of minutes. 

“Not only were you threatened,” Seto pressed, breaking you from your thoughts, “But one of those men died right in front of you.” 

You shrugged, “I mean that was… more startling than anything I guess. I wouldn’t call it traumatic.”

“Are you trying to convince me of that, or yourself?” 

You blinked up at him a few times as you processed his question, and although you had the response that of course you were trying to convince him, you couldn’t say it. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t reach your lips, instead getting caught in your lungs. Why would you need to convince yourself that you weren’t traumatised? You knew yourself better than he did. Of course he was the one being ridiculous about the whole thing. 

“I…” You didn’t deserve to be traumatised. It was just some stupid nightmares, you were just reacting a little more than you should have been because of all the stress. The stress from the break-in, from the fashion show, from finals, from graduation tomorrow. Yeah, that was it, just stress; you were absolutely not experiencing some form of PTSD, mild or otherwise.

“I’m totally fine,” you finally managed to force yourself to say. As the words left your throat a wave of nausea washed over you, but you pushed it out of your mind and insisted to yourself, again, that you were fine. Totally fine. 

“I’m not sure what I’m more insulted by,” Seto frowned down at you, and he set the fork down of the now empty plate and stood from the bar stool. His mostly-naked frame towered over you, sapphire eyes darkened by annoyance. “The fact that you’re lying to me, or to yourself.”

With that, he took your wrist and pulled you up from your stool, about dragging you behind him as he left the kitchen. You considered protesting or jerking your wrist out of his grasp, but discovered the thought left you feeling exhausted and even more nauseous. His words echoed in your head as you pondered them, your chest tightening at the tone of them. Insulted, he had said. 

You bit at your bottom lip as he brought you back up the stairs to the bedroom and near tossed you onto your shared bed. You said nothing in response, adjusting yourself so your head lay upon the pillow a little more comfortably. Seto had put you on his side of the bed, but rather than pushing you over he pressed his body against yours, bringing one arm around and hugging you so tightly he almost crushed your chest. 

You blinked into the darkness a few times, the heat radiating off his bare chest almost suffocating you. The position he had you in was incredibly uncomfortable, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to wiggle out of his grasp. You were suddenly too tired to do anything but lay against him and stare into the dark room, wondering if you would have the nightmares again if you fell asleep. 

 

Your parents rode with you and Seto in the limousine on the day of the ceremony. You had explained to them on a few occasions that parents didn’t typically attend graduation in Japan but they still insisted on being there. Mokuba opted to spend the day with his girlfriend rather than attend the ceremony, as he figured he would have plenty of time to celebrate later that evening. Seto worked the entire drive, naturally, and your parents offered occasional chatter, but otherwise the ride passed in comfortable quiet. When the limo pulled up to Domino University the four of you exited and promptly made your way to the auditorium just up the hill. As you walked, you noticed a few members of Kaiba Corp. security around campus.

“Are the bodyguards really necessary?” You asked in Japanese as to keep your parents from worrying. 

“It’s merely a precaution.”

“You’re expecting someone to shoot you at graduation?” 

He shot you a look, “They’re for you too.” 

You raised an eyebrow, “Zigfried is already… well you know. Do you expect other people want to hurt me or something?”

“That’s why it’s a precaution.”

You sighed and decided to drop it, realizing you weren’t going to get anywhere with him. On the plus side, at least he wasn’t bringing up your conversation from last night in any way, you didn’t think you had the energy to try convincing him again you didn’t need to see a therapist. You could have this discussion later, and you’d rather both of you go into the ceremony in a good mood.

Upon entering the auditorium Seto took his leave of you and headed to the stage where he and the rest of those making speeches were to be seated. The place was already full of people, students excitedly talking and taking their seats for the ceremony. You showed your parents to their section, where very few people over the age of thirty were seated, before finding your own. 

You were sat in the middle section of the Domino University auditorium with the rest of your major, surrounded by your fellow classmates all dressed to the nines. All the men wore perfectly pressed black suits with various color ties, and a majority of the women doned brightly colored hakamas. You had debated coming in one yourself, but eventually decided on a more western style; a deep scarlet floor length gown with white floral detailing on the collar and sleeves.

It wasn’t long after that the auditorium quieted down and one of the professors announced the start of the ceremony. The dean of Domino University stepped up to the podium on stage, dressed in a crisp black suit and bright blue tie. He set his speech down on the podium surface, and you sat yourself up completely straight as he cleared his throat and began reading aloud from his papers. Around you, the rest of the students also visibly straightened their backs politely.

The dean’s speech was overly formal and long-winded, to the point that you had trouble understanding some of it. Conversational Japanese had become second-nature to you after living in Domino for three years, but there were still plenty of words you had never heard before. After a while you grew frustrated enough trying to figure out the meaning of some words that you stopped listening altogether. You scanned the faces of the other men and women sat behind the podium on stage, finding Seto sitting toward the far right side. He looked about as disinterested in the speech as you did, though he posture was perfect as always as he listened.

A few other professors gave speeches, though they were a bit shorter they were still just as formal, and at some point you completely gave up listening and instead decided to occupy yourself with less wordy thoughts. You made a note to look up some words later, but you were more interested in looking at the Kaiba Corp. guards who were floating around the auditorium. They were all dressed like secret service members, in matching black suits and sunglasses, with little silver KC logos pinned to their lapels.

Seto was the last person to give a speech. Unlike the others before him, Seto had no papers in front of him. His eyes scanned the auditorium, the color of sapphire landing on you for a few seconds longer than anywhere else. You swallowed hard and felt your shoulders stiffen instinctively under his scrutinizing gaze. After he’d given the room a once-over he began to speak, his low baritone booming through the speakers at the front of the stage and sending a quiver through your chest. 

He commanded the room easily, energy radiating off of him as he made direct eye contact with at least one person from each section of the auditorium. As you listened to him, you realized that his words were different than the ones you had read over the night before. He must have re-written and memorized it all last night. Even after dating him for over two years, his genius still managed to amaze you.

You hoped your parents were equally impressed, although you were positive that they had no idea what any of the speakers were saying, Seto included. Now that you thought about it, you wondered how boring and frustrating it must be for them to watch a ceremony in a completely alien language. You felt kind of bad for them, as this was almost certainly not what they had in mind for your graduation; you wouldn’t even be walking for your diploma. 

When Seto finished his speech and returned to his seat, the dean returned to the podium and began announcing the names of each major’s representatives. You glanced over your shoulder to find your parents faces in the crown, but gave up after a few seconds of searching as to not be rude. Your shoulders were starting to become stiff with all this sitting with your back perfectly straight. 

Your major’s diplomas were given to the fashion representative student, Nami, who was in a bright gold hakama with black flowers painted on the silk. She had her long hair tied back in a pristine bun, and she took the large black box with perhaps the most graceful and practiced bown you’d ever seen. Her eyes were alight when she grinned at the rest of you and took her seat again. When you turned back to look on stage you noticed Seto had rested his gaze on you, and he stared for a few moments before finding interest elsewhere. 

He seemed quite bored, though you supposed that was kind of expected. He had been complaining that he didn’t have any interest in attending the ceremony, and would have skipped it altogether had the dean not insisted he make his valedictorian speech. He probably wanted nothing more than to get back to work. If you were being honest, you were a little surprised that he came in the first place; there wasn’t much the dean could do if he refused to make a speech, even he knew he had no power over a Kaiba. 

The end of the ceremony came after every major representative had their diplomas, and the dean made a final speech on how each and every one of you should make it your goal to become a productive member of Japanese society. Go forth, he urged, and make Domino University proud. With that everyone stood from their seats and clapped, watching him exit the stage with most of the other professors. 

Nami distributed your diplomas one by one, and you noticed Seto had disappeared from the stage and was walking toward the opposite side of the auditorium, likely to retrieve his own diploma. Once yours was in your hand, you excused yourself from the group of other fashion graduates and set off to find your parents. They had ended up along the back wall of the auditorium, staring down at your father’s phone with a recording of Seto’s speech playing quietly through the speakers. 

“What are you doing?” You asked. 

“Your father got a translation app for video and audio, so we’re seeing how well it works.”

You peered over the top of the phone screen to watch the subtitles scroll by, thinking over the accuracy of the translation as they went. It wasn’t terrible, you eventually concluded, but much of the nuance of your boyfriend’s grand speech had been lost in translation. You relayed as much to your parents and assured them both he was a much better writer than the subtitles gave him credit for. Seto caught the tail-end of your compliment as he found you, and you noticed the egotistical smirk that played on his face for merely a second before vanishing.

The four of you headed out of the auditorium and back into the limousine that was waiting at the curb. Your parents stepped inside first, and Seto ushered you in with a hand on your back, fingers twitching against your spine when you smiled up at him. He sat closer to you than he had on the way here, but still kept an appropriate distance considering present company. 

“Congratulations.” Seto hummed in English as you looked over your diploma.

“Congrats to you too,” you replied with a grin, glancing over to his to notice the gold foil laurel on his that marked his Summa Cum Laude merit.

He nodded briskly, “Now that this is all over I’ll have much more time to focus on work.” 

“As if I was expecting any less, you workaholic.” 

“Speaking of work,” your mother chimed in as the four of you got comfortable in the limousine, “What are your plans now that you’ve graduated? Are you going to keep working at that boutique?” 

You sighed, setting your diploma down on the seat next to you, “This is gonna sound dumb and overly-ambitious but… I think I want my own business.”

“That doesn’t sound dumb.” Your mother assured. 

“Do you want your own store in Domino?” Your father asked. 

“Not sure yet,” you hummed, “I don’t know if I want a physical store or an online one. I mean, I don’t even know if I could ever afford a store in Domino. The city is pretty expensive.”

“You’re involved with me, money isn’t an issue.” Seto said.

You rolled your eyes a bit at the way he said ‘involved’ rather than simply referring to you as his girlfriend, “I’ll keep that in mind moneybags, but I’d like to at least try to accomplish something on my own.” 

He seemed satisfied with your response and dropped his part in the conversation altogether, instead choosing to observe you and your parents speak on the way back to the mansion. 

Oddly, he didn’t pull out his phone to work, and at some point he had taken to holding your hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who have been commenting this month are most of the reason I'm motivated to write again, so thank you all from the bottom of my heart! Hopefully this chapter was up to your standards :3


	22. The Satisfaction of Spontaneous Interaction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This. Chapter. Is. Entirely. Fluff.

It was the hottest summer Japan had seen, with record-breaking highs and such an oppressive humidity you couldn’t be paid enough to step outside of the mansion. Thank god you no longer worked at the little boutique in Domino, you were convinced just the walk to and from your car would be enough to kill you. Although, you did find yourself missing Chi as a sewing companion as the days went on. 

You couldn’t understand how Seto willed himself to leave the house every morning for work. Even though he took a limousine to Kaiba Corp he still had to spend at least six seconds outside, and that was enough to make you want to die. In fact, you couldn’t understand how the whole of Japan just kept working through this heatwave. People had collapsed in the streets, some had even died, yet everyone you talked to sort of shrugged it off with a _shikata ga nai_ and just kept going. You were starting to become convinced you didn’t have the work ethic to keep up with this country.

Fortunately, you didn’t have to dwell much on the heat or its societal implications, because you had locked yourself away in your studio practically all season with the air conditioning blasting. It was cold enough, in fact, that you often found yourself in one of your many comfortable hoodies. You’d fallen into a daily routine of waking up a few hours after Seto had left, working on one of three collections in preparation for the opening of your online store, and ending your day with a few hours of video games. Between all the garments you were working on, there was plenty of work to be done; and between the new World of Warcraft expansion and various other summer games that had just released, there was plenty to play. Keeping yourself busy was a cakewalk, and before you knew it summer had almost passed and September was upon you. And with September came the many business parties you had to attend with your boyfriend. 

You weren’t positive why everyone decided September and October were the months to host fancy gatherings, perhaps at this point it had just become a sort of tradition. But every year since you started dating, Seto had dragged you along to at least five parties each year during the period you’d begun referring to as ‘shindig season’. Needless to say, your boyfriend hated the name, though not quite as much as he hated the season itself. For every party he brought you along to there were three more he politely (well, usually politely) declined. Sometimes for business reasons, sometimes for time reasons, but usually because he just hated parties. 

You didn’t particularly like the parties yourself, at this point they’d all begun to blur together and just became a chore to attend. Dressing up and making yourself look all dolled up was fun, but really you could do that whenever you wanted. Standing around for three to five hours trying not to drink too much wine and pretending you had any idea what people were talking about got old fast. What was worse was how some of Seto’s business acquaintances still treated you like you were some pretty bauble attached to his arm just for decoration. It didn’t bother you when they ignored you during business discussions or acted as if you were ignorant to their conversations because, honestly, you were most of the time. But it sure as hell bothered you when they talked at you like you were an idiot or tried to involve you in conversations about the most shallow of things. 

Funnily enough, one of the things you were talked to most about at those parties was fashion. Considering your degree in the field, you usually enjoyed the conversations. But you were pretty sure the topic only ever came up because people thought you were stupid and were only interested in playing dress-up and being a pretty trophy for Seto Kaiba. 

You were thankful that, with how long you’d been dating, most all of Seto’s closer business partners actually respected you. Sometimes they even asked you for your input on the things they were discussing although you usually felt you didn’t have much to add to the conversation. Still, it made you feel a whole heck of a lot better than being completely ignored and treated like a moron. 

You were wondering what conversations you’d get pulled into this time when Seto found you in your studio, steaming a suit on one of your dress forms. Your hair and makeup were already done, and you were dressed only in a set of lacey blue lingerie he had bought you since your dress was still hanging on a rack on the other side of the room. 

“Why are you working in your underwear?” 

“It’s a bit hard to move in that dress,” you admitted, “I’m just making sure Ryuuji’s suit is pressed.”

In the last few months you and Ryuuji had become decent friends, after the events that transpired back in March he had made a serious effort to make things up to you. After finding out he hadn’t had anything at all to do with the break-in or the attempted Sozouryoku sabotage, you had begrudgingly given him a second chance. And you were glad you did. Ryuuji had really grown on you, he was funny in that snarky sarcastic kind of way, easy to talk to, and a legitimately wonderful person. The two of you frequently went out for lunch together, where conversation consisted mostly of him regaling you with tales of his absolute shit show of a love life.

By chance, you and Ryuuji had been talking about the upcoming shindig season, and taking bets on which parties you thought Seto would drag you along to. He had complained about how difficult it was to find a suit that matched his style and personality. He wanted something with a pop of color, but not tacky or cheap looking. Then he remembered your passion and chosen career, and insisted on being your first official client since your graduation from university. After some internal debate, you agreed. 

Hence the custom-tailored wool suit currently on your dress form, a fitted black pant that came perfectly to his ankles, and a fully lined, single breasted jacket with a notched, deep cherry red lapel and ticket pockets. You had hand sewn a buttonhole on the top of the lapel for him to sport a boutonniere because, of course, he insisted on being the center of attention. 

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Seto push back the sleeve of his Brioni jacket to glance at his watch, probably to see when Ryuuji would be arriving to pick up his suit. He sat down on one of your chairs and occupied himself with watching you work. You walked around the suit a few times checking for any wrinkles and steaming them out, making sure there were no uncut loose threads, and brushing the fabric with a lint roller to ensure neither of your cats had left any fur behind.

“You’re very thorough,” he observed. 

“Well it’s my first suit commission, I want to make sure it’s perfect.” 

After a third walk-around you were satisfied you hadn’t missed anything, and you turned off your steamer and pushed it to the corner of the room. You slipped the suit into a garment bag and hung it on a rack, before retrieving your own dress. You unzipped the back and took it from the hanger, stepping into it to slip it over your body. You had to shimmy your butt into it with how tight you’d sewn the waist, and couldn’t help but notice the way your boyfriend was staring at you the entire time.

“Enjoying the view?” You cooed. 

He raised an eyebrow but neither responded nor took his gaze off your ass as you squeezed it into the champagne-colored dress. You managed to pull it up your body and slip the straps over your shoulders, before asking him to zip you up. He stood from his chair and sauntered over to you, brushing his fingertips over your spine so gently it caused goosebumps to form on your skin. You tilted your head to grin up at him, and he responded by brushing his lips lightly against your own. When he pulled away from your face you noticed a bit of sparkle had transferred to his lips from your lipgloss, and you bit back a giggle. The way he used his thumb to wipe said sparkles away, a slight smirk on his mouth the entire time, made your heart flutter.

God, you loved this man. 

You turned your body to face the floor length mirror, gazing at the image of the two of you standing together. Seto’s bangs had just been neatly trimmed a few days ago, yet they still fell in a sort of chaotic organization just above his eyes. He wore a champagne silk tie the same color as your dress beneath his expensive black wool suit jacket and matching pants. A decorative gold tie clip was fastened on the right side, inlain with sapphires that matched his eyes. Standing next to you, although he towered over you by about a foot and his ensemble cost easily twenty times your own, the two of you looked like you belonged with one another. 

“We look good together,” you said fondly.

He didn’t reply, but the satisfied glint in his eye was enough. After a moment of staring at your face in the mirror, he pulled up his sleeve again to glance at the time on his Rolex. A frown creased at his forehead momentarily before his face assumed a stoic mask. 

“He’s six and a half minutes late.” 

You snorted a laugh, “That just means less time we have to spend at the party.” 

He seemed to have no argument, so he pulled his sleeve back down and made to reach into his jacket pocket. Before he was able to fully pull out his phone there was a knock at your open studio door. 

“Seto-sama, Otogi Ryuuji is at the main gate.” Noel said with a low bow, her white apron wrinkling beneath her hands and her silver curls cascading around her face. 

“Speak of the devil.”

“Send him up,” Seto ordered.

“Right away sir.”

Noel dismissed herself with another bow, her heels clicking in an even rhythm as she made her way down the hallway. Seto had already busied himself with work on his phone and reallocated to one of your chairs. You smoothed your dress and looked over yourself in the mirror again, making sure your hair was in place. It wasn't until your name was called by a familiar voice that you turned away. 

“Heya Ryuuji!” You greeted with a sort of mock salute. 

“Nice dress.” He smiled at you warmly before turning his head to his left, “Hey, Kaiba.” 

“Otogi.”

Ryuuji and Seto still didn't get along on the best of terms, each still annoyed with one another for various accusations they had thrown around after the whole Souzou incident. But, they were still cordial enough, if only for your sake. When you and Ryuuji and first started hanging out, you had gotten annoyed with both of them constantly squabbling whilst in the same room. Finally you snapped at them to quit acting like stubborn children, and they begrudgingly, at least somewhat, worked out their differences.

You pulled the black garment bag down from your clothing rack and handed it to Ryuuji. He pulled the zipper in front open and peered inside to examine the suit jacket, a grin forming on his face. 

“Now this is my style.” He announced before looking over at you, “You guys are going to be at the party right?” 

“No, we’re just sitting around in formal attire to pass the time.” Seto grumbled sarcastically before you had the chance to answer. 

Both you and Ryuuji rolled your eyes in unison, although you probably thought the remark was much funnier than he did. Ryuuji asked for a room to change in, and you directed him to the large closet on the far right wall that you had turned into a fitting room. He disappeared behind the closed door, leaving you to stare at your boyfriend. You pulled up one of your chairs next to him and sat down, leaning your chin on your palm. 

“What, are you going to chide me for being rude?” He scoffed with a glare. 

“No, that was funny.” 

“So I’m allowed to be rude as long as you think it’s funny?” He raised an eyebrow. 

You chuckled, “You wouldn’t be the man I fell in love with if you weren’t rude. So long as you’re not outright fighting with him I’m happy.” 

“If you’re not intent on scolding me why did you come over here to stare at me?” 

“I’m staring at you because I think you’re hot.” 

He seemed momentarily surprised, though quickly recovered when the door to your right creaked open. Seto glanced back at his phone and you turned to look at Ryuuji, now in his perfectly fitting suit. The red of the lapel popped against his tan skin and contrasting green eyes. He had fastened a white rose and shining bedstraw flowers to the boutonniere buttonhole on his lapel. Despite the pop of color and his long black hair being tied in a sort of messy ponytail, he looked strangely elegant. 

“You like it?” You asked. 

“Like it? Don’t sell yourself short this is perfect!” He said, adjusting the collar on his white shirt so it hugged his neck just so. 

“Awesome,” you grinned, “I think it looks good on you.”

“In that case I should get going,” Ryuuji nodded as he stored his street clothes in the garment bag and zipped it up. “I can’t wait to show off all your hard work.” 

You snorted a laugh and brushed him off with a shake of your head. You waved as he headed out the door and turned your attention back to Seto, who was staring so intently at his phone screen that for a moment you thought he was in a trance. You sat quietly while you waited for him to finish whatever he was reading. Abruptly, as if he’d finally noticed you staring at him, he shoved his phone back into his jacket pocket and looked up at you with a sort of curious look you couldn’t quite place. The look quickly disappeared from his features, and he stood from his chair and offered you a hand. You took it and glanced momentarily at your fingernails, painted a light rose gold that matched your earrings. You really needed to stop biting at the skin around them. 

“So, are you driving or are we taking the limo?” 

“Driving,” he replied, “So we can leave when I get sick of conversing with idiots.”

 

The party was going about the same as all those you’d attended before it, and likely those you would attend after. You followed Seto around for the majority of the evening while he tried to avoid talking to people. During conversations you were mostly ignored, which gave you more time to sip glasses of champagne from the flutes that kept being offered to you by wait staff. Really, how could you possibly turn down free wine? 

Currently, Seto was in the middle of a conversation with a famous Japanese voice actress, a tall young woman with long black hair and soft pink lip gloss. The sequins on her baby blue sequin ball gown sparkled in the chandelier light overhead, and she wore a genuine smile that caused tiny wrinkles at the corners of her brown eyes. About twenty feet away, you spied Ryuuji half-sitting casually against one of the many empty banquet tables, leaning his weight on the arm that wasn’t holding a champagne glass. He was talking to two older gentleman, one of whom you recognized as a Kaiba Corporation shareholder. Though now that you thought about it, about half the people at this party were more than likely shareholders. They paused their conversation when a third man walked up to them.

“That’s a wonderful suit, Otogi-san. The colors really suit you.” He said as he extended a hand to Ryuuji to shake. 

“Thanks, did you know the designer is right over there?” He grinned in reply before calling your name to get your attention, though you had already been eavesdropping on them. You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at how quickly he jumped at the opportunity to involve you in their conversation. Obvious much?

You looked up from your wine glass to wave up at him and the three gentlemen he was talking to, and above you Seto paused his conversation with the voice actress to glance over as well. Ryuuji waved you over to him and you excused yourself from your boyfriend’s side to join him, and introduce yourself to the three men. Ryuuji began to talk as loudly about your design as possible, garnering the attention of more than a few of the party’s other attendees. Once they realized who your were, or perhaps who your client was, they began to flock around you to listen in on the conversation, before jumping in themselves almost all at once. 

“Wait just a second, you made that?”

“Ah, yeah--.”

“It looks so professional!”

“Thank you, I--.”

“Do you make dresses as well?”

“Yeah I do. I made the one I’m wearing so--”

“Ooh, do you think you could make me one for the upcoming charity ball?” 

“In October? I should have enough time to--”

“Me too!”

“I’d love one too!”

You ended up giving out almost all the business cards you had in your purse, and after the crowd had dispersed you turned to Ryuuji and lowered your head in a bow. Almost immediately he threw his arm around your shoulder and waved you off. 

“No need to be so professional, making people famous is just what I do.” He winked, “Plus with the pile of work you’re about to have I’m not sure you’ll still be thanking me.”

“I really hope they don’t all want gowns for the charity ball next month, or my fingers will fall off.”

“You’d better get used to the workload,” Seto said as he walked toward you, “And Otogi, get your arm off my girlfriend.”

“So possessive,” he hummed sarcastically, though he obligingly removed his arm from you and took a step back.

Seto offered you his arm and you took it, though you weren’t positive if it was meant as a romantic gesture or a way to make a point. You thanked Ryuuji again for being your hype man and he waved you off playfully, before excusing himself to continue mingling. You finished off the rest of the champagne in your flute as a member of the wait staff came by to offer you another. 

“How many have you had?”

“Uh,” you glanced down at the wine in your hand, “This is my... seventh?”

“Are you serious?”

“Maybe it’s my ninth, I lost count.” You shrugged. 

“I think you’ve had enough. I don’t want to be forced to carry you to bed.” 

“As if I could get drunk off this stuff,” you dismissed, “Its maybe four percent alcohol. It’s practically juice.”

You offered him a sip though he declined by pushing the glass back toward you, muttering something about taking your word for it. You shrugged and decided to prove your point by downing the entire glass, offering a triumphant smirk. He seriously underestimated you if he thought you could get drunk off just champagne, with the size of the flutes you hadn’t even had two bottles yet. This evening would be infinitely more bearable if you were being offered hard liquor.

You decided to see how many glasses it would take to get you tipsy. Other than the one glass you chugged in front of your boyfriend you were relatively discreet about how much you were drinking. You’d sip at the wine as Seto talked business with others at the party, and finished off the glasses when it was only the two of you. At one point you’d both found an excellent hiding spot off to a secluded corner of the ballroom, where you stood together for almost half an hour before someone noticed and just had to speak with him. In that time of relative isolation you’d managed to down three additional glasses. 

The final count by the time Seto got fed up with the party and dragged you out was sixteen, and you lamented the fact that you were barely buzzed. You were convinced you’d just been drinking sparkling cider from the small flutes, and that you only felt a bit intoxicated due to the placebo effect. You grumbled about the lack of alcohol in your system the entire way home, and insisting you were going to get drunk when you got home. You asked no less than three times if Seto would join you, and with both of you stuck in the car and his eyes focused on the road he had no good way to ignore your demand. 

He agreed to have a drink with you, if only to get you to stop pestering him. 

Hence, the two of you found yourselves in the East wing library, sat upon the brown leather couch. You had pulled one of the low tables closer to the two of you, where a bottle of Tullibardine scotch sat beside your choice of Koloa Kauai rum. There was a small cutting board and knife set with a few limes you’d been slicing up to squeeze into your glass upon each refill. You each had your drinking glasses in hand, and you had forced your way beneath Seto’s free arm to snuggle into his chest as you sipped away at your alcohol. Halfway through your third glass you were pleasantly tipsy. 

Seto had started on his second glass, the smell of scotch already heavy on his breath though you were sure the rum on yours was equally strong. 

“This is certainly reminiscent,” his voice hummed above your head. 

“What is?” 

“The two of us on a loveseat, you lying on my chest drunk out of your mind.”

You sifted through your brain for a moment to remember the instance he was talking about. When you couldn't recall, perhaps due to your inebriated state, you turned your head over to look at his face and raised an eyebrow to prompt him for clarification. 

“Before we started dating we were in a similar position… though last time you were crying.”

“Oh yeah. After my grandma died and you let me cry on you?”

“I wouldn't say I ‘let you’ cry on me, you simply did it.” 

“You didn't kick me off.” 

He conceded your point with a half-nod and took a sip of his scotch. You took the time to think over the memory, and wondered if it was one Seto thought was particularly important. He didn't often bring up memories, unless it was in an argument to prove a point, or if you prompted it with a question. Then again, he was always more talkative when there was alcohol in his system. 

“Play me a song?” You asked abruptly, turning your head slightly to gesture to the grand piano in the middle of the room. It seemed somewhat out of place in a library, but from what you understood it was where Seto had attended piano lessons as a child. This library doubled as a study for him while he was home schooled, so there were a few non-library elements in the room since he had spent so much time in here. 

“Right now?” 

You nodded.

“Why?”

“It's been a while,” you hummed, “And you always play such pretty songs.”

He sighed and turned his gaze to the piano, staring at it in thought for a moment. He took another sip of his scotch, this one longer than most others, before setting the glass on the table with a grumble. He pushed you off his chest and stood, stretching his shoulders back and walking to the piano. 

“What do you want to hear?” 

He was being surprisingly accommodating. First agreeing to drink with you, then offering no argument to playing a song for you, and now asking what you wanted him to play? It wasn't even your birthday.

“Anything.” 

He pulled the fall board up elegantly with his long fingers as he took his seat on the bench. He played a few notes to be sure it was tune, and cracked his knuckles after he was seemingly satisfied. You took note of how perfect his posture was, back completely straight and shoulders back as if he'd been trained to sit that way. Well he probably had, considering how strict Gozaburo had been and how rigorous his education had been. You took a long sip of your rum as he began to play, and what you had expected to be a classical piece like he usually played you turned out to be jazz instead. It was a gentle melody, bright notes echoing around the room with a distinctly warm tone. It was a slow, steady tune that served to relax you, his music filling you with a calm that only he could. If you closed your eyes, you could easily imagine yourself in a bookstore, coffee in hand, sifting through the fiction section to find a good mystery.

You sat relaxed on the couch for a few minutes before setting your glass of alcohol next to his and pushing yourself to a standing position. After confirming you weren’t drunk enough for the room to be wobbling, you sauntered over to the piano and stood behind your boyfriend. He didn’t react to your presence, though you knew he saw you. You leaned down onto him, lifting your arms to drape over his shoulders and wrap around his neck. He continued playing as if nothing was happening, so you took the opportunity to lean your chin on him and plant a kiss on his jaw. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He sighed, long fingers moving uninterrupted along the keys. 

“No, keep going.” You murmured in reply with your lips against his skin. 

“Why are you distracting me then?” 

“You don’t seem very distracted.” 

He said nothing in reply, taking the opportunity to end the dialogue and focus on playing though it seemed easy for him to multitask. Considering he was a genius, it wasn’t surprising he could play a jazz melody from memory and still hold a conversation with you. Impressive, yes, but not surprising. You kept your lips on his jawline as you hummed softly along to his music, thinking fondly on how incredibly lucky you were to have him for a boyfriend. 

You weren’t positive how long you stood there hugging your boyfriend’s neck, your drunken sense of time sort of blurred at some point, but eventually the music stopped and Seto turned his head slightly to get your attention. You pulled your face away and pried your arms from him so he could stand, and he pulled the fall board back down over the keys as he did so. 

“Thank you,” you smiled up at him. 

He offered merely a hum, as he always did, before heading back to his previous spot on the couch. You followed after him and once again insisted on worming your way into his arms to snuggle against him. He muttered something under his breath about you being unbearably affectionate though he didn’t stop you. You were genuinely curious why he was being so patient with you this evening, but thought if you asked he might decide to stop humoring you. Instead, you decided to continue making the most of the rare opportunity. You turned yourself over in his arms and pushed yourself into a sitting position, swinging one of your legs over his to straddle his lap. 

“Kiss me,” you drunkenly demanded. 

He sighed and finished off what was left of his scotch, leaning forward and pushing his chest against yours to set the glass on the table. As he pulled away he examined your face carefully, one of his long fingers tapping against your thigh in a steady pattern. You cocked your head to the side, and raised your eyebrow curiously.

“You’re so needy when you’re drunk.” He finally groaned. 

“Am I?”

“Insufferably so.” 

You responded with an over exaggerated pout, one that he rolled his eyes at and then chose to pointedly ignore. When he wouldn’t look back in your direction you removed the pout from your face and placed a hand on the side of his face, gently nudging him to return his gaze to you. You ran your thumb up and down along his skin and instead offered him a warm smile. 

“I just really enjoy when you spend time with me like this.” 

He sighed again, softly, and focused his azure eyes on yours. The look he gave you was one of contentment, and he moved his hand from your thigh to instead wrap around your waist. He pulled you against his chest and planted a soft kiss against your lips, mouth still rich with the taste of scotch. When he pulled away you noticed the dark circles under his eyes seemed less prevalent tonight, though whether that was a fact or merely your drunken imagination you couldn’t be sure. 

You leaned forward for a second, short kiss, before moving your head down to rest against his shoulder. His hand continued to rest on your waist, and you were surprised that he hadn’t yet moved to pull out his phone. In fact, now that you thought about it, he had been focusing his attention on you for the entire night, and hadn’t pulled out his phone since… well since before the two of you left for the party. Was there some sort of important date you’d forgotten about for him to be this nice to you? You searched your brain, but couldn’t think of anything significant. 

“Hey,” you muttered. 

He hummed. 

“Is there--” you paused, thinking over your question for a moment, “Did I forget about something?” 

“What?” 

“Like some important date or?” 

“Quit being vague.” 

“You’re never this… tolerant of me.” 

He scoffed, though he took a moment to formulate a response. “No, you didn’t forget about anything.” 

You expected him to say more, but after waiting patiently for about twenty seconds realized that was all. You hadn’t forgotten anything, he was simply entertaining your overly-affectionate, drunken self because… well, just because. Because it was making you happy. Because he loved you. Because with how busy you both were he’d barely spent time with you the last two weeks. Perhaps you were taking some liberty with those assumptions, but then you couldn’t think of any other reasons he was indulging you. 

You grinned and mumbled an ‘I love you’ into his shirt, one which he hummed in reply to. He moved his hand from your waist to tangle in your hair, and for just a moment time seemed to stand still. You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you did wake up to his arm around you, your bodies huddled together beneath the mass of blankets atop the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're entering the end game.


	23. In Sickness and in Health

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> F-l-u-f-f  
> What's that spell?

“Seto?” You called as you headed up the stairs of the now empty mansion. It was well past midnight and all the maids and housekeepers had long since left the grounds. Mokuba had departed to Kyoto Seika in April the year prior, and had elected to get himself an apartment just outside the campus grounds. He didn’t come back to the mansion very often, usually during the semester breaks or holidays, since the drive was so long. 

You checked inside your shared bedroom, the door already cracked open, but your boyfriend was nowhere in sight. Past midnight and not in the room? There was only one place he could be.

The office. 

You headed down the hall and moved the bag you were carrying to your left hand, knocking on the door to his office with your right when you reached it. When you received no reply, you hummed, turned the doorknob, and slowly pushed it open to peer inside. You spied your boyfriend sitting at his desk, reading over something on his computer monitor. His azure eyes flashed to your face and he half-nodded as a sort of greeting. Clearly he wasn’t so absorbed in work to not notice you, so why hadn’t he said anything when you knocked? 

You held up the bag in your hand, “That one bakery you like was still open on my way home. I got you some coffee cake!”

He watched you enter the office and set the bag down on his desk, before pulling out a neatly packaged blue box that contained his cake. You set the box down beside one of his many stacks of papers, and he nodded, before glancing back to his computer monitor. It was weirding you out how silent he was, like he was more adverse to talking than usual. 

“Seto?”

He looked back to you, and you leaned over his desk and grinned, inching your face closer to his. He seemed oddly hesitant to kiss you, though not in a way that meant he was frustrated with you distracting him. When your lips met his softly, and he breathed just slightly as he pulled away, you instantly realized why. 

“Are you sick?” You asked, feeling your brow furrow with concern. 

“What makes you think I’m sick?”

Ah, so he can speak.

“You smell like menthol. You never smell like menthol unless you’re sick.”

He eyed you for a moment, considering your words before letting out a sigh, one which made his chest contract as he held back a cough. Seto rarely got sick, his immune system was ridiculous, but when he did he was stubborn as all hell about it. He did everything in his power to keep the symptoms hidden from others, not just his employees but the housekeepers as well. He also tried his damndest to keep you from finding out, though considering you slept together about every night you always found out within a day or two. You still couldn’t understand why he insisted on trying to hide any illness from you, you’d already been together almost four years now. 

God, had it already been four years? 

“Well I know now, so you can quit holding it in. Do you want me to bring you some tea?” You asked.

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you for your concern.”

You groaned, “Why do you do this every time? As much as I love the ‘guess when my beloved boyfriend is sick’ game it’s getting a little old.” 

He leveled a glare at you but said nothing.

“Seto,” you continued, “if you’re not feeling well I wanna help.” 

“Why?” 

You scoffed, “Because I absolutely adore you, ya’ nimrod.”

He shook his head and reached his left hand down to pull out his upper desk drawer, reaching inside and producing the distinct sound of plastic crinkling. He moved his hand around for a few seconds before frowning and looking inside, giving a long sigh before pulling his hand out and near slamming the thing shut. You winced at the force behind his action, before tiptoeing around his desk to look inside the drawer yourself. He didn’t stop you from opening it, though you caught the frustrated look he was sending your way. Inside, an empty bag of cough drops sat open and half-crumpled, and pulling it out you confirmed it was the source of his distinctly menthol smelling breath. 

“Do you want me to grab you another bag from the kitchen?” 

“That was the last one.” He grumbled. 

Now that you’d confronted him about his illness, he no longer seemed adverse to talking about it. This happened every time he was sick, he kept it a secret until you found out about it, and then was seemingly perfectly fine with discussing it with you. He’d basically do a complete one-eighty on the subject, and even after four years you still had absolutely no idea why. You loved him, but sometimes he drove you up a fucking wall. 

You glanced down at your phone, “It’s past midnight but the convenience store two blocks down is open twenty-four hours.” You held the bag up again and examined it, “You want this same brand?” 

He raised an eyebrow, “You’re going out?”

“Well you’re not going to do it,” you gestured to his computer screen where Visual Studio was open with a long, complicated-looking code. “Anything else I should get?” 

“No.”

“Are you sure? What are your other symp--”

“I’m fine.” He insisted. 

“Darling if I find out it’s more than just a cough I’m going to go out to the store again for more medicine so please save me the trouble and tell me now.” 

“I said--” he began, but stopped short as a painful sounding cough ripped through his throat. You crinkled the empty bag in your hands and waited for them to subside, and after a moment his breathing evened out and he pinched at the bridge of his nose. He then cleared his throat and started again, “I’m not lying to you, it’s just a cough. Now stop making me talk, will you?”

“Sorry, I was just worried.” You muttered. 

He nodded, removing his fingers from his nose and flickering his blue eyes to yours. You stared into them for a few moments before nodding back and excusing yourself from the room, assuring him you’d be back in ten minutes or so with more cough drops and, perhaps, an entire store's worth of Esutakku.

 

Your trip to the 7-Eleven had taken a few minutes longer than expected, mostly because the little old shop employee had seen what you were buying and asked all manner of questions on your health. Were you running a fever? Did you need her to recommend any other medicines? You know, you really shouldn’t be eating something so high in sugar when you were sick! 

Rather than tell her the medicine was for your boyfriend, and not you, you had instead decided it best to tell her you were just feeling a cold coming on and wanted to stock up. Seto was very insistent of a certain public image, one that was void of any weakness, and that included illness. You highly doubted the woman knew who you were, but if she did she’d probably read a newspaper and knew you were dating the richest man in Japan. Somehow she talked you into putting back your candy bar and replacing it with some strange green vitamin drink that was, supposedly, very good for fighting off a cold. 

When you returned to the mansion and presented your boyfriend with the spoils of your trip, he muttered something incomprehensible under his breath and tore open the top of the bag of cough drops. He set them aside and examined the bottle of Esutakku, and you watched him take double the recommended dose without so much as a second thought. Then his gaze turned to the green bottled drink. 

“What on earth…?” 

You shrugged, “Apparently it’s good for colds.” 

He turned it over to read the ingredients label on the back, eyes narrowed in thought, before he shook his head and placed it back on his desk, “I’ll stick to coffee.”

You picked up the bottle for yourself and did the same, reading off the names of eight different vegetables before you, too, decided you’d rather not have to drink the thing. You placed it back in the convenience store bag with every intention of forgetting about it until it popped up somewhere in the mansion months later. As you did so, Seto unwrapped one of the many menthol cough drop you’d purchased and popped it into his mouth, muffling a cough as he did so with the back of his hand. His long fingers twitched, and he allowed his focus to return to his computer, setting his fingers on his keyboard and resuming a rapid pace of typing. 

You considered asking if he needed anything else, but since he had already gotten back to work you decided to instead exit the office and head to one of the libraries. You searched the books neatly lining the shelves for something interesting, before spying a leatherbound title, neat gold words etched into its spine. You pulled it from the shelf and quickly skimmed the first two pages, deciding it was good enough to entertain you for the evening. You returned to the office and pulled up a chair to sit beside your boyfriend, propping your knees up against his desk and making yourself comfortable. Seto paused his typing long enough to watch you pull open your book and lean your head against his arm, though he neither commented nor complained, and just as quickly resumed his work. 

 

Two mornings later found Seto exiting the bathroom after finishing his pre-work shower, wet hair tousled from a brief towel drying and completely nude. He glanced over to the bed when you muttered something completely incoherent, at first thinking you were talking in your sleep until he noticed your eyes were open and you were staring up at the ceiling with a frown. You’d kicked off all the covers in the ten minutes he had been in the bathroom and your hair was sticking to your face. 

“You’re never awake this early.” He commented flatly. 

“It’s hot.” 

He raised an eyebrow to you as he crossed the room to the closet, drying his body with a towel in the process. When he emerged a few moments later fully dressed in a pair of dress slacks, a button-up white shirt, and one of his many trench coats, you had pulled the covers back over your body and had your face buried in the pillow. 

“Cold now?” 

“I don’t feel good,” you mumbled into the pillowcase, though your words were likely a complete jumble to him. It wasn’t until you felt a hand tangled in your hair that you groaned audibly and turned your face over to look at him. He moved his hand to your forehead, and you could tell his previously clean skin would be slick with sweat when he removed it. 

“You have a fever.” 

“It’s too early for a fever,” you lamented. 

He sighed and took his hand off your head, very obviously trying not to look at the sweat covering it. You watched him retreat into the bathroom and heard sink water running, presumably so he could wash his hands. After a moment he exited the bedroom altogether and you assumed he was leaving for work, although you were disappointed he hadn’t said goodbye. You hummed dejectedly and turned over to once again bury your face into the pillow, complaining to yourself about the sunlight casting a dim light through the blue curtains covering the windows. When you heard the bedroom door open again, and familiar footsteps pacing toward your side of the king size bed, you tried to will yourself to look up, but the darkness surrounding you was just too enticing.

Your name left his lips twice, the first time softly and the second more demanding and accompanied with a gentle nudge of your shoulder. You said something into your pillow even you couldn’t make sense of, before being turned over on your back. He glared at you impatiently, his free hand containing a bottle of the medicine you’d purchased from the 7-Eleven a few days prior. 

Once you were staring at him again, he popped open the bottle and produced two white pills from it. He handed them to you and set the bottle down on the bedside table, picking up a glass of water in one hand and assisting you in sitting up with the other. You downed the medicine and the entire glass of water in one chug, before immediately letting lose a violent cough. Seto sighed above you and confiscated the glass from your hand, setting it on the bedside table next to the medicine. 

“You got me sick,” you complained. 

“Apparently,” he hummed, “Perhaps you shouldn’t have been all over me while I was getting over the illness myself.” 

“I wasn’t--” you coughed, “--All over you. I kissed you like twice in the last--” another cough, “--Two days.” 

“Five times.” 

“You counted?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“No, I simply remember them all.” 

You weren’t sure if that was romantic or simply credit to his genius. Maybe both. 

He pushed you back down on the mattress and replaced the covers on your body, even after you complained that it was too hot for the sheets and the comforter. He paid your grumbling no mind, however, and simply ignored you as he tucked you in. You were much too tired to kick the covers off, and after fifteen seconds of whining you began coughing into said bedsheets and could no longer argue. He assured you he would bring you the bag of cough drops, which you nodded in response to, before excusing himself for work. 

The maids brought you mugs of hot tea and honey, and bowls of soup periodically throughout the day. You felt like you had to use the bathroom every five minutes with how much liquid you were taking in, but the warmth felt so good on your throat. You spent most of the morning and afternoon in bed, only leaving the comfort of the blankets once to retrieve your laptop from your studio, before receiving a scolding from Noel that you hadn’t asked her to get it for you. 

You tried to do some work, but your head was too fuzzy to really concentrate on anything, and you wondered how Seto had managed to work through his own illness for two days. Instead, you entertained yourself with Netflix, falling asleep on more than one occasion while watching reruns of The IT Crowd. The day seemed to be dragging on endlessly, and you spent it wishing Seto would just come home already and save you from your eternal boredom. 

He didn’t return to the mansion until nearly nine, however, after you’d exhausted reruns and tried to focus on not one but two different documentaries. The one about American government corruption had held your interest until the last twenty or so minutes when your head felt as if it was being split open like a watermelon, while the one about… wait what was the other one even about? 

God it had been a long day. 

You were soaking in the bath when he found you, the water turned a vibrant and sparkling silver from a citrus bath bomb and a cold washcloth folded atop your forehead. There was a pail of ice water on the floor next to the tub, which you dunked the cloth into when it began to get to warm. The tub itself was heated, enough so that you never needed to replace the water but not so much that it burned your skin. Cough drop wrappers were scattered about the bathroom floor, as you’d forgotten to bring the trash can over when you got into the tub and much too lazy to retrieve it after. 

“How long have you been in there?” 

You opened your eyes to him and hummed in thought, before pulling one of your hands out of the water and holding up your significantly pruney fingers, “About this long.” 

He glared as if your answer was too vague. 

“I dunno, two hours?” You managed to get out before you coughed into your pruned hand. 

“I take it you’re not feeling any better.” 

You cleared your throat, “Not really.” 

“Perhaps I should work from home tomorrow,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. He knelt down to begin picking up the cough drop wrappers and tossed them in the trash, and you briefly thought on reminding him that he had housekeepers for that sort of thing. But you supposed they were hired less to pick up after him and more to keep dust from collecting on the many, many surfaces in the large mansion. 

“Do you plan to stay in there much longer?” He asked after a long silence, one in which you hadn’t realized you’d closed your eyes. 

“The water feels so nice…” you hummed in reply, grinning a bit to yourself, “Maybe you should join me.” 

“No. I’d really rather not get sick again.” 

You pouted, though you didn’t argue. You didn’t much want him to get sick again either, although his immune system was probably already over whatever strain of illness he’d passed along to you. After a few moments you heard his footsteps exit the bathroom, and they didn’t return for the remainder of your bath. Eventually you removed yourself from the warm water, and upon looking at the time realized you’d fallen asleep for a while. You’d been in the tub for so long your fingers and toes had an uncomfortable tingling sensation in them from how pruned they’d become. Seto was already in bed, propped against two pillows with his laptop on his legs. You realized the pillowcases and comforter he was atop were different from those you’d been laying in earlier, and probably covering in germs. The bedding had probably been changed while you were in the bath. 

“Are you really going to work from home tomorrow?” You asked, having to supress a cough about halfway through your question. 

“Probably.” He stated, glancing up at you, “Why?” 

“It was lonely without you.”

He eyed you curiously, “You work from home every day without me here.” 

“Yeah but I’m working--” you coughed, “--So the day goes by faster.” 

He returned his gaze to his laptop and hummed as if he were listening as you talked. 

“Today was unbearably boring without you.”

You got dressed in a comfortable pair of pajamas and eyed yourself in the mirror, your face flushed pink from the heat of the bath. When you returned your gaze to your boyfriend, he had a slight smirk tugging at his lips, though for what reason you couldn’t possibly think of. You retrieved your phone from the bathroom and returned your towels to their rack, before crawling into bed next to him and burying yourself under the covers. You thought with how much you’d slept today you’d have difficulty when it was actually time for bed, but your worrying was unwarranted. The melodic sound of Seto’s typing was hypnotic, and lulled you into a deep slumber that was only occasionally interrupted by a fit of coughs or a need for another dose of Esutakku.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has sort of turned into little episodes of domestic life with Kaiba at this point. But I'm sort of 100% okay with that? We're wrapping up the story anyway, so I think we deserve just some cute feel-good moments with best boy. We've spent 4 years with him after all ;)


	24. Equinox

Autumn leaves poured from the sky like big, colorful raindrops, cloaking your vision in the colors of warmth and fire. Cold wind came in violent gusts around you, swirling the leaves about in a sort of tornado and blowing your hair into your face. You had to shove it all into your beanie to keep it from blinding you, focusing your vision on the golds and reds that had taken over the entirety of Domino City. 

The force of the wind threatened to blow you over and knock you flat on your ass, and at times you had to lean on nearby walls and lamp posts to keep from falling onto the sidewalk. Around you, other denizens of Domino were having similar issues, ties flapping in the wind and long coats blowing behind them as they shielded their faces and clutched at their briefcases. You had half a mind to call a taxi with how gusty it was, but the coffee shop you were meeting Anzu at was only another two blocks away. 

You’d spent the better part of your morning working. First, breakfast with a client who had flown in from Fukuoka. Her wedding was in three months, and she’d been having trouble finding a designer in Japan who shared her vision for her gown. She was marrying a wealthy artist from Dublin, and their wedding was Western beyond belief. She wanted an outrageously extravagant white wedding gown, beaded to the high heavens and sporting a train the length of which would rival the Nile. She wanted a seamstress in Japan so she could come in for fittings, and apparently you’d been recommended by one of your former classmates. Just three months to make a ridiculously detailed bridal gown with massive amounts of beading, hand stitching, and corseting? On top of all your other projects? Oh, you were so in.

Next up, your meeting with Anzu. There was a huge Duel Monster’s tournament taking place in New York in February, thrown by the one and only Pegasus J. Crawford, and thanks to his eternal King of Games title, Yuugi was one of the guests of honor. There were other familiar names on that same list: Jounouchi would be there, representing Japan as the current national champion, along with his sister whom you hadn’t seen since the big game party at Yuugi’s five years ago. Ryuuji was also attending, as a sponsor rather than a duelist, and you had already begun work on his suit. Of course your boyfriend would be there, one couldn’t throw a Duel Monsters tournament without _the_ Seto Kaiba, and therefore you would also be tagging along. Rebecca Hawkins, America’s national champion, whom you’d met twice now at PAX and one of Seto’s company parties, would also be attending. And to your understanding, the other members of the Geek Squad, as Seto so affectionately called them, would be there to watch.

There was going to be a fancy banquet before the tournament began, and each of the guests was to be dressed to the nines. Hence why Anzu had called you up in a sort of half-panic. She was going to be Yuugi’s date-- fiancée, rather-- and therefore needed to look perfect. She insisted she didn’t own anything that could be considered ‘dressed to the nines’ worthy, and therefore needed your help making something that would make him proud to be standing next to her. 

Another three month deadline? Who needs sleep anyway?

“Hey, Anzu,” you greeted, spying her already seated in the coffee shop by one of the large windows. “Congratulations on the engagement!” 

“Thank you,” she grinned, holding up her hand to show off her engagement ring, a gold band with a single purple stone set in the middle. 

You took a seat across from her and pulled off your beanie, smoothing out your hair and picking a leaf off your sweater to let it flutter to the ground. She asked if you wanted a coffee, but you shook your head politely. You’d already had two cups at breakfast, any more and you’d be getting into very dangerous Seto-levels-of-caffeine territory. 

You pulled out a sketchbook, along with a few pencils and markers of various colors, setting it on the table and folding your hands atop it. “So, ballgown for the tournament?”

“Yup. Ryuuji said you were making his suit, and told me if I needed something made to go to you.”

“Well, I’m flattered,” you grinned. “Did you want to see my portfolio before we start, see if there’s any references in there you like?” 

“I skimmed it on your website, but there wasn’t really anything quite like what I’m looking for,” she admitted sheepishly.

“No problem, we can start from scratch then. What sort of fit are you going for?” 

The two of you went through the process of brainstorming what Anzu envisioned herself wearing for the banquet. Something long, elegant, fitted to show her curves. She wanted to be able to walk easily, so you suggested a kick split. She wanted both the colors pink and blue, and after a few rough sketches decided on a gradient dye. Sleeveless was a must, you both agreed, she had great arms and the world deserved to see them in their full glory.

By the end of it all, you had a sketch in the works she was practically falling over herself for, insisting it was everything she wanted in a dress but couldn’t seem to find anywhere. Price discussions went a little less smoothly, Anzu was on a budget so the two of you had to work out some cheaper materials you could still get a proper dye job with. You knew a silk supplier through Kinujinsen you could get a discount from, and with a synthetic lining you could bring down the price significantly. You also agreed to give her a friend’s discount… well, more like a friend-of-a-friend’s discount. Considering your other commissions that were already lined up, and the fact that some of your regulars (Ryuuji included) had started paying extra just to ‘secure their places’ on your client list, you could afford it. You were basically charging her for materials and labor, but it was a dress you were fairly excited about making so it didn’t bother you. 

She was ecstatic, and thanked you over and over again for taking on her request. The two of you scheduled the week after for her to come to your studio downtown so you could take her measurements, and with that she was off. As she left, you began jotting down some more detailed design notes on your sketch, things like fitting lines, fabric compositions, hem and zipper placements. You jotted down the dye brand you wanted to use, along with a reminder to call the silk manufacturer and see how much of a discount you could get if you put in a bulk order. You were running low anyway. 

Gradient dying pink and blue was going to be a bitch… Anzu didn’t want the colors to blur too much, so you needed as little purple as possible between the colors. Maybe using wax to stop the bleeding? No, that wouldn’t be soft enough, and you didn’t want to damage the silk. It would probably just require a steady hand, a really really steady hand. On the bright side it would be the perfect opportunity to teach Itsuki, your apprentice of only three months, a thing or two about fabric dying.

“You look busy,” came a familiar voice overhead. 

“Huh?” You muttered, blinking a few times before you set your pencil down and looked up, “Oh, Seto! I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“You weren’t picking up your phone. I called your studio but Itsuki said you were here for a meeting.” He replied, taking the empty seat across from you and setting two cups down on the table. You glanced at the writing on yours and discovered it to be tea, non-caffeinated. You weren’t sure how he knew you’d already had entire too much caffeine, or if it had just been a coincidence, but either way you were grateful. 

“What are you doing out of work?” You asked. Seto usually stayed in the office throughout the entire day, and if he did leave it was to grab a coffee at the shop less than a block down or attend some sort of business lunch. 

He held up his drink, “I was going to invite you for coffee. I hadn’t realized you were already at a cafe.”

“Oh, what’s the occasion?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Occasion?”

“Oh come on you never invite me out during work.”

He rolled his eyes, “I wanted to have coffee with you, that’s the occasion.”

Be still your beating heart, five years and Seto Kaiba still found ways to make your heart flutter with the smallest amount of words possible. He took a sip of his coffee and you began putting away your supplies, deciding to save work for later and instead focus on your boyfriend. It was rare for the two of you to spend time together when one of you wasn’t working, and you were sure your plans could stand to wait an extra twenty minutes. The two of you locked eyes for a while, a content silence between you, before he seemed to find interest in the wind outside. You sipped at your tea and enjoyed the quiet, with nothing in particular to say, perfectly happy with just looking at him. 

You noticed him staring at something across the street, his coffee cup frozen in place as it rested on his lips. You turned your head to find what had caught his eye, scanning the mostly empty sidewalk for a moment before finding a woman leaned against the front of a bakery, next to a wooden barrier that shielded her from the wind. A small boy who couldn't have been older than five busied himself with what looked to be some sort of metal puzzle ring. Occasionally he would look up at the woman and speak to her, though through the glass you couldn't hear what was said.

You wondered if the scene had piqued Seto’s interest simply because it was something to look at, or if there was some sort of significance. 

“Seto?” 

He hummed in acknowledgement, eyes fixated on the window. 

“Do you want kids?”

He furrowed his brow, blinking a few times before he set his coffee down on the table. He eyed you with a curious glare, as if he either hadn't expected you to notice him staring or hadn't even noticed it himself. 

“Why do you ask?” He sounded suspicious, and you had to bite back a chuckle. 

“Just curious.” 

He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh come on, humor me,” you said softly, before taking a sip of your tea and offering a smile. 

“I don’t think I would make a particularly good parent,” he replied with almost a half-shrug, his voice carrying little emotion. 

“Why?”

“I'm much too busy to dedicate the time to a child. And I doubt I'd be… affectionate enough to justify spending so much time away from it.”

You snickered at the way he called the imaginary child an ‘it’. “You don’t think you could make extra time for a child?”

“I barely have enough time for you,” he replied with a sigh, taking his coffee to his lips. The remark delighted you, as you took it to mean he wished he spent more time with you. Though, considering how busy you yourself had been over the last few years, it wasn't entirely his fault. 

“Not to mention,” he began again after some thought, “I'll soon have even less time outside of the company.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Between preparing for the opening of Duel Academy in the upcoming year, research beginning on the new energy development… not to mention I'll need to eventually start thinking of who I'll be training to take over the company.” 

“You wouldn't train your child for that?” You asked. 

“I wouldn't want it growing up the way I did.” He replied flatly. 

You weren't all that shocked at his response, Seto never really seemed interested in having children, much less an heir to the Kaiba name. Perhaps you were both just too young to think about things that way, but even if he decided he never wanted kids and would work until the day he retired, you didn’t mind much. Though, you were a little intrigued by the fact that he'd shared his feelings with you about it with such little fuss. 

“I suppose that's fair, although there are two of us to care for,” you raided your hands in air quotes “‘it’.” 

“You're quite busy with your own business, it would be unfair of me to expect you to take care of a child in my absence.” 

You grinned, pleasantly surprised by his concern for your own ventures. Not that he didn't normally care about your work, of course, but he wasn't exactly the pinnacle of selflessness. It wasn't often that he brought it up so casually as if to call you his equal. 

“Why are you asking?” Seto’s low baritone broke through your thoughts, “Do you want children all of a sudden?”

“No, you're right that we’re too busy for kids right now.” You hummed.

He allowed the conversation to drop, and a calm silence filled the air as he sipped at his coffee. You took the opportunity to grab his free hand with your own, gently lacing your fingers with his and simply enjoying one of the increasingly rare moments you were able to spend with him like this. It had been nearly five months since your last date, not that you had been counting. Okay, maybe you had been counting a little, but only because you had a very cute dress you'd been dying to wear for him that you had made around the time of your last dinner date. Unfortunately for you, impromptu afternoon coffee dates weren't exactly the right setting for said dress, even if you had known you would see him here.

Alas, the very pretty sky blue gown would have to wait. 

It was only a few moments later that Seto finished his coffee and announced he needed to get back to work. He offered to have his driver drop you off at your studio, and as you were about to insist it was alright a gust of wind loud enough to be heard through the window blew past, sweeping a cascade of autumn leaves across the glass. On second thought, perhaps the car would be safer. The two of you entered the limousine, hands still locked together, and you spent the time until he departed leaning against his shoulder and watching him browse his emails on his phone. Neither of you spoke, you didn’t have anything in particular to discuss and, therefore, he had nothing to respond to. 

When the limousine pulled up to the front of the Kaiba Corporation headquarters, he placed a soft kiss on your forehead and wordlessly exited the car. You watched him walk up the steps to the building, though the wind blew his trench coat violently behind him, he didn’t so much as stumble as he strode upward and through the glass doors to his company. You didn’t understand how the man could be so graceful all the time, both his confidence and his stride unwavering no matter the circumstances.

You were dropped off outside of your studio approximately ten minutes later, and as if to spite you, just before you made it to the front door you were blasted by a gust of wind that knocked you to the side and staggered you. You very ungracefully collected yourself before striding inside and greeting Itsuki, who took one look at you and began snickering. 

“What?” You demanded. 

“Sorry boss, ’s just, well your hair’s a bit… windswept.”

You rolled your eyes and checked one of the many nearby mirrors to find your hair blown in all sorts of directions. Three maple leaves had somehow found their way burrowed in your locks, and you pulled each one out with a groan before relegating them to the trash. You combed your hair down with your fingers for a few moments, before becoming fed up with the process and shoving your beanie back over your head. 

“Anyone come in while I was gone?” You asked. 

“No boss. ‘Think this weather’s got everyone stayin’ inside.” 

“Figured as much. How are alterations on Miss Kagura’s blouse coming along?”

“Already finished boss, started on that blue suit jacket,” he held up said jacket in confirmation, its lining already taken apart so he could get to the seams. 

You headed to the garment rack in the back room to check on the blouse, examining the seams he had taken in and confirming they had been stitched correctly. To your delight, his stitches looked to be carefully done, upon a close inspection his spacing was a bit inconsistent but that would come with time. Overall you were pretty impressed with how quickly he had done the alterations. 

“Good shit Itsuki!” You called as you headed back to the front. He responded with an excited ‘whoop’ as you sat beside him at the front desk. You turned your attention to the computer, the latest and greatest in state-of-the-art Kaiba Corporation technology, courtesy of your boyfriend of course. Logging in, you cracked your knuckles and opened up a folder of contacts to find the numbers for silk and dye suppliers. You picked up the phone next to you and began dialing numbers, loading up a kitten livestream to entertain yourself, and diving into the much less fun aspect of running your own business. Itsuki continued hand stitching away beside you, one earbud popped into his ear and an anime you didn’t recognize pulled up on his laptop. Just taking a cursory glance, it looked like a generic slice of life. Knowing him, it was probably a bad romcom. 

Most of the day went like that, you ordering supplies for the shop and greeting the few customers who came in to either pick up their tailored garments or request a quote on something. Itsuki continued slaving away at whatever clothing you shoved at him, perfectly content with being able to watch anime and ignore customers as he steadily sewed. It wasn’t until he was packing up to leave that you realized it was already seven. 

“Wow time flew by,” you muttered to yourself, rubbing at your eyes as it seemed like you hadn’t blinked in minutes. As Itsuki returned the garments he was still working on to the in-progress rack and picked up his sewing kit, you looked outside and listened for the wind. It seemed to have died down, at least for the moment. 

“Good work today Itsuki!” You called. 

“Mhm, ‘cya tomorrow boss!” He replied with a half wave as he headed out the door.

You returned your gaze to the computer screen again, staring at an expense report and scanning through the numbers. You began adding material costs for the two commissions you’d taken on today and supplies you’d already ordered, along with estimated labor times, Itsuki’s salary… you should probably give him a raise, he’d been working hard. 

You were in the green, at least for the month, and so far it was projected to stay that way until the end of the year. The profits weren’t anything to throw a fancy party over, but they were enough to keep a decent size studio space in the heart of Downtown Domino and still afford an employee, even a second if you really wanted to hire someone new. That, in itself, was pretty damn good for a relatively new business. You felt blessed to have Ryuuji, who wore your designs everywhere and bragged up and down about you, along with a boyfriend who’d taken the time to explain to you business strategies and organization and money-crunching until your head felt like it was going to explode. Without the two of them, you never would have been able to afford a storefront so quickly out of university. 

Your phone buzzed beside you, and you glanced over to see a message from Seto. That was strange. You opened it to see him asking when you were coming home, and looked at the time to realize it was somehow already nearing nine. How long had you been looking at that expense report? You shook your head and saved the document, shutting down your computer and grabbing your coat and keys from the back room. You needed to get home and get something to eat; you had skipped, or rather, forgotten about lunch entirely. Plus, you still needed to shower, and you really wanted to get some work done on Ryuuji’s suit before you went to bed. There was so much work to do and so little time in the day. If you had two cups of coffee tomorrow morning, you could probably work an extra couple hours on the suit and be on track to finish it before the materials for Anzu’s gown arrived next week. Wait… were you seriously going to chug extra coffee in the morning to make up for a lack of sleep in the middle of the workweek?

Shit, you were turning into your boyfriend. 

 

Three weeks later, your laptop lay discarded at the foot of the bed you were currently splayed on top of, one of your arms covering your eyes and the other petting soft circles into the belly of the aging Dandelion. He was sleeping soundly beside you, soft snores emanating from his half-open mouth, front paws occasionally twitching when your hand brushed them. You didn’t hear the bedroom door open, nor the footsteps that paced toward the bed, so you were startled when a hand ran softly through your hair. You knew who it was without bothering to look, once your heart rate slowed to normal, his long fingers and perfectly manicured nails were unmistakable. 

“Something the matter?” He hummed, his rich voice a welcome distraction from your current annoyance. 

“The backs of my eyelids are rectangles,” you groaned in reply. 

A beat, before a confused, “Are you drunk?”

“I wish.”

He removed his hand from your head, and you felt the mattress move against a small bit of pressure at the foot of the bed. After a moment, a weight settled next to you, adjusting pillows and getting comfortable before a series of keys were typed into, presumably, your laptop. You heard his nail tap lightly at the side of the computer, then a low hum in thought.

“I assume this expense sheet is the source of the ‘rectangles’ giving you so much trouble.” He hypothesized. 

You removed your arm from your face and rolled over to your side, propping up a few pillows so you were at a level where you could see the laptop. Dandelion let out a startled snore, before looking around the room blearily. When he realized Seto had come to join you, he rolled himself over and yawned, before slowly meandering to his outstretched legs. Your cat then promptly crawled into his lap, making himself comfortable and, in turn, making Seto shift in discomfort a few times before they finally found a compromise and he began purring contently. The excel document you’d spent the better part of an hour staring at and doing calculations on was open on the laptop screen, cursor hovered over a section keeping track of notion costs. Your boyfriend’s eyes were fixed on the screen, eyes scanning the sheet quickly. 

“This is certainly an… interesting way of organizing things.” He muttered.

“It makes sense to me,” you replied with a half-shrug.

You caught him briefly roll his eyes at you before opening a new document. He dragged it to the side of the screen so it lined up side-by-side with the first, and you watched him begin to transfer data from one to another. You were curious at first, unsure of what exactly he was doing, before after a moment realizing he was completely remaking your spreadsheet in a different format. As you opened your mouth to ask why, exactly, he was re-organizing your report, he spoke. 

“It will be easier you you to get used to a proper format if you already have a document to start with.”

Somewhere in the back of your head you probably appreciated that he was spending his time helping you make your reports more organized. Presently, however, you were a bit distracted by other business matters you were trying to solve, along with feeling a bit defensive of your work. You could understand your documents just fine, why did it matter whether he could or not?

“Why is it so important for me to use the ‘proper format’?” You asked, being sure to put emphasis on the last two words so that the apostrophes that bracketed them were clear.

“Spending excess brainpower trying to decipher your roundabout way of organization is a waste of my time.” He stated, tone firm and explicit.

“They’re not even for you,” you said defensively. 

“And what are you going to do when your business inevitably grows and you’ll have to assign your employees to do these reports for you?” He pressed, “It’s short-sighted for you to believe you’ll be the only one in charge of expenses, therefore the sooner you break these bad habits the better.” 

You were surprised by his words, or rather, surprised with how he was so confident in your small business growing. He didn’t say it as if it were a dream or a possibility, but rather as if it were a simple and conclusive fact. You were thrown off guard, and ended up so caught up in his words that you forgot about the fact that he was lecturing you about your ‘roundabout way of organization’, as he’d called it. 

“I seem to recall spending time teaching you a much more clear way of organizing sheets like these.” He muttered after a moment, half to himself and half to you

“Yeah I started doing that but then… I dunno this way was faster.” 

“You can cut corners once you’ve mastered the right way of doing things,” he shot you a look, “Which you clearly haven’t.” 

“Yes _sensei_ ,” you groaned sarcastically with a roll of your eyes, “It’s not even the organization that I’m having trouble with.”

He leveled a glare at you for your sass, but after a moment let out a frustrated sigh. “What, then?”

“I’m at a crossroads,” you said thoughtfully, “A weird employee-monetary-workload crossroad.”

He raised an eyebrow, impatiently prompting you to elaborate. 

“I’ve got too many clients,” you sighed, “Well, I should say too many clients who want fully custom work done. Especially ball gowns and suits and pieces that take a lot of time to make. Not to mention, Itsuki needs a second pair of hands for alterations and simpler tailor work.”

He glanced over your expense sheet again, “Seems you could afford another employee.”

“I don’t have the time to take on another apprentice, and it wouldn’t be fair to Itsuki anyway.”

“I said an employee, not an apprentice,” he stated flatly. 

“I’d still probably have to train them to make sure they know how to do things the right way,” you hummed in thought, “But I suppose that would help Itsuki in the long run.”

“If you hired an experienced tailor they would also be able to assist with custom orders.” His tone was somewhat condescending, as if his solutions were both the simplest and most rational and he was shocked you hadn’t come up with them yourself. Which, for the record, you had. They were among the things you’d been thinking about when he found you on the bed. 

“I don’t want anyone else working on most of the big custom orders.” You insisted. 

“Why not?”

“Because I’m the only person I trust to know what they’re doing.” You replied with a groan. 

He blinked a few times before a smirk appeared on his face and his azure eyes narrowed at you in amusement. A soft chuckle then escaped his lips; it was like dark red velvet, low and warm and breathy, filling your chest with tenderness and making your heart swell. You were unsure what you’d said to prompt such an entertained reaction from the man, but whatever it was you were delighted by the response. You’d been with Seto five years now, and while he had grown increasingly more affectionate and sentimental with you around, it was still a somewhat rare occurrence for you to get a genuine laugh, even just a chuckle, out of the man. 

“You’re beginning to sound like me.” He said tenderly as his laughter died, the statement meant both as a compliment and a humored observation.

The comment evoked your own laugh. You’d been noticing the similarities in your work patterns for a while now, especially with the extra work you’d taken on for the tournament. Although you got up two hours later than he did you both still worked late into the evening more often than not, to the point that you now ate dinner together more frequently than you had in the years prior. You’d taken a lot of his business advice to heart, and used it to your advantage, especially in the shop’s first year. Sometimes you would hear Seto’s voice in the back of your head when you worked, advising you on a decision, but this was the first time you could really imagine him echoing the exact words you’d just spoken.

“Well, if I’m starting to sound like you, I’ll have to start making more money,” you grinned, before lowering your tone into a dramatic and playfully mocking one, “‘I am the CEO of a multi-thousand-dollar tailor’s shop’ just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

He shook his head at the joke, another, albeit much shorter chuckle escaping him. He had returned his attention to your expense reports, fingers flying across the keyboard as he transfered data from one to the other. 

“I’m not sure Domino will be able to handle both of us.” You quipped after a moment.

“It will have to,” he replied with a dismissive flick of his wrist, “It’s not as if either of us are going anywhere.”

You smiled at both his words and the implications of them, shifting yourself closer to lean your head against his shoulder. The familiar and comforting smell of coffee and musky cologne wafted over you, and you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to truly relax after a long day of work. For the moment, you were made to feel like all your worries and responsibilities had melted away, clearing a path and leaving in their wake only your love and adoration for him. Every day, sometimes in the way he spoke or the words he used, other times by the way his warmth remained a constant in your life of variables, or by the way he ran his fingers in circles on your skin, or said your name in his low silky voice, or stared into your eyes for those few extra seconds before he returned his attention to his computer screen… every day, somehow Seto found a way to make you fall more and more in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so nice writing fluff considering how much ANGST I've been writing for Ghost. 
> 
> Final chapter will be going up in one week. I'm also going to put up a little epilogue, so (technically) we'll be ending with 26 chapters. I do hope you guys are enjoying how this series turned into 'Stella writes feel-good moments until she dies from diabetes' because I've been having such a delightful time with everyone being happy. All these good beans deserve happiness. 
> 
> Please feel free to share your thoughts on the chapter! Also if you notice any typos please do point them out, the text on my screen has all begun to blend together at this point. Hope y'all're looking forward to the finale~


	25. The Melody of Language

Seto insisted on taking you out for a date on Friday evening. Usually you were the one asking him to free up some time for you, not the other way around, so although you were excited it still struck you as odd. When you asked what the occasion was, he said nothing. When you asked how fancily you should dress, he told you to wear whatever you wanted. 

You decided upon his favorite pair of lingerie and a white dress with pearl and crystal beading cascading down the bodice. He had remarked that he liked it while you were making it, but had yet to see you wear it. He was waiting at the bottom of the stairs in a Desmond Mirrion suit, custom tailored, of course, so it fit him perfectly. When he saw you, you noticed a spark of approval in his sapphire eyes, and you couldn't help but grin as you descended. 

“Do you like it?” You ask coyly, fishing for a compliment. 

“You look like a bride,” he remarked, his statement neither a compliment nor an insult. 

“I'd say you look like a groom, but you wear a suit all the time,” you hummed in reply, reaching for his hand as you made it to the landing. He gave it freely, pulling you in for a short kiss before escorting you out of the mansion and into the back of the waiting limousine.

He took you to dinner at one of your favorite restaurants, one which, though exceedingly delicious, might not have been fancy enough to warrant how expensively you were both dressed. Usually Seto drank wine during dinner, a glass or two of whatever was good and exorbitantly expensive. Tonight, however, he insisted neither of you have any alcohol, and instead opted for a glass of water. You asked why, but he didn’t seem interested in giving an answer, and with a shrug and a bit of confusion you got yourself a soda to sip on during the meal. 

As the two of you ate, something seemed to be occupying his thoughts. When you weren’t filling the air with conversation, you noticed him staring at you with that face he made when he was trying to think through a problem at work. The face he made when he was deciding on a chess move, or what Duel Monsters card to play. There was something in his eyes-- uncertainty maybe? It looked out of place considering his usual air of confidence.

“Is everything alright?” You asked, feeling your brow furrow as the question left you. You thought you sounded more worried than you’d intended to. You hoped nothing was going on at work that he was missing because of you, sometimes when you asked him to take you out he would complain later that he had a lot of catching up to do because of it. Though, he had asked you, not the other way around. 

“Yes, fine.” He replied before taking a sip of water, his eyes never meeting yours. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive.” He insisted. 

Maybe you were just reading into things too much, and he simply had a lot on his mind. 

After dinner, he told the driver to take the two of you to the outskirts of the city, where there was a crepe shop you adored. You were delighted at the care he taken for the evening, and grinned about the whole way there. You ordered your favorite, and as expected your boyfriend ordered nothing, before you both retreated to the air conditioned interior of the limo once again. Seto was not one for sweets, but he took a bite of your crepe at your request and remarked that it was ‘passable’. Considering he’d called the last crepe he tried ‘edible, I suppose’, you figured it was a step up.

You had assumed the night would end there, but to your surprise, he demanded to be taken to Kaiba Corp. He instructed you to come up with him and said there was something he needed to show you, so you obliged. The lobby was empty, now that it was nearing seven the building had officially closed for the evening, although there were plenty of employees still hard at work on upper floors. The two of you waited for the elevator to empty of a handful of people before embarking alone, and Seto swiped a card into the slot beside the panel before he pressed the button for the top floor. The entirety of the ride went uninterrupted, the card he’d swiped making it so the elevator could not stop until it reached the top, though you wondered why he chose to use these elevators over his private one. Two floors to the top, Seto reached for your hand silently and laced his fingers with yours.

Disembarking, a quick look confirmed Aiko had gone home long ago, desk neat and personal computer shut off. Beside the framed photo of her mother now sat her wedding photo, she and her husband stood side by side in traditional Japanese attire, each grinning ear to ear. It had been a small, family ceremony, so of course you had not attended. Afterwards, however, Aiko had about talked your ear off about the event, and for at least two weeks she was in such a bright mood she almost seemed a different person. With her gone, the floor was completely empty aide from you and Seto.

The two of you entered his office, the beginnings of a sunset lighting the clouds just above eye level outside of the glass wall behind his desk. The heavy double doors shut behind you, leaving a still air between you and your boyfriend, hands lightly entwined. Other than the sun’s light lilting through the window the office was dark, the furniture in the room casting long shadows across the floor and up the walls. One shadow in particular, the shadow from one of the three computer monitors on his desk, was ever so slowly inching up towards his neck. 

“This,” he began abruptly, his voice slicing through the silence, “Is where I fell in love with you.”

You blinked a few times, mouth open in shock. In the many years the two of you had been dating, unless it was followed by prompting from you the word ‘love’ had left his lips only once before, and even then the circumstances were a little forced. Yet now, in the dim glow of the sun’s rays, with no sort of prodding on your end, he was using the word so casually, so fondly. You squeezed his hand and swallowed to clear your throat, but couldn’t think of what to say. Before you could begin to formulate a response, he lifted his free hand and pointed to the window behind his desk where the light of golden hour was pouring in. His eyes were staring straight ahead, unblinking as if he were still deep in thought about what he was saying. You followed his finger’s direction and looked out the windows. 

“You were there, sitting the wrong way in the chair, facing the windows and staring at the sunset.” He said, and you had to search your memory to recall the time he was talking about. You’d seen the sunset from his office many times now, and trying to think of one time in particular was hard. 

“You said you’d never seen a sunset ‘like this’ before,” he continued, and the memory clicked in your head. You recalled one afternoon in your first semester of college at Domino University, before the two of you had started dating. It was a crisp fall day that you had spent drawing a portrait of him for one of your studio art classes. You remembered him sitting still for hours while you drew him, until the sun began to set and you noticed the orange glow in the office.

“I had never met someone who could be so easily enthralled by something as simple as a sunset. You looked so excited, like a child starting her first day of school,” he said, returning the hand that had been pointing back to his side. “I found it interesting that you could be so snarky and realistic, and still find beauty in something so… mundane.”

With his last line, you weren’t quite sure if he was still talking about the sunset or himself. Thinking about it, you didn’t think you’d ever heard Seto talk so much at one time unless he was giving a long speech before a tournament or going off on a slacking employee. Hearing him speak so softly for such a long time made your chest feel light and a grin creep to your face. His voice was warm and sweet, like honey in a fresh cup of tea.

“I think you fell in love first then,” you mumbled fondly. 

He let out a scoff and tugged on your arm gently, leading you to the middle of his office. He stopped in the empty space in front of his desk and turned to face you, wrestling his hand from yours and reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket. You looked back up at his face and furrowed your brow, still trying to figure out why he had brought you here and begun uncharacteristically spilling his heart out to you.

“Not only is this where I fell in love with you,” he began, slowly pulling something you could not see from his jacket, “But it is where I ask you to marry me.” 

Your eyes widened at his words, staring up at his warm, sparkling sapphire eyes and his calm face. You parted your lips to speak, but you were forced to look down at what he had pulled from his jacket. Lightly held between his fingers was an eerily familiar ring, a single brilliant diamond, wrapped in a thick square-shaped setting atop a polished, silver band. 

“It was your grandmother’s,” Seto confirmed, his voice deep above you.

“How did you…?” 

“Your mother gave it to me at our graduation.”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes as you stared down at the sparkling ring you had seen so many times on your grandmother’s finger. The fact that Seto had that ring in his hand right now meant either he had told your parents years ago that he planned to propose, or that your mother had been confident enough in your relationship that she gave him the ring on her own. Admittedly, you weren’t quite sure which was more likely.

Seto’s free hand was on your chin, gently lifting your face so your gaze was again on his face. You brought yourself up on your toes a little so you didn’t feel quite so short staring up at him. You knew the man wasn’t much for tradition, but you had to giggle at the fact that he was still towering half a foot over you rather than getting down on one knee. 

“Marry me,” his voice was soft, seemingly still deciding whether to ask you for your hand or telling you to give it to him. 

“Of course,” you nodded up at him without hesitation, the happy tears still fighting at the back of your eyes for the chance to spill down. You felt him take your hand, and you looked down to watch him gently slide your grandmother’s ring onto your finger. It was the perfect size, strange considering your grandmother’s fingers had been larger than yours, but you quickly forgot the thought as you threw your arms around him and wiggled your way into his grasp. You felt him lean his upper body down so he could kiss the top of your head. A few hot tears finally flowed down your cheeks as you grinned and laughed and whispered “I love you” over and over against his chest. You felt his hand on your back, tracing small circles on your spine and holding you close against him, as the sunset outside of the office windows cast brilliant orange light over your bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brownie point to those of you who know where Kaiba got his proposal inspiration from (hint: it's from like 90k words ago, and it's probably not what you think OwO)


	26. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyyyyyy we hit 100k words boy-os.

In the years following your graduation from Domino University, the Kaiba mansion steadily became more and more lonely. 

Mokuba’s departure to Kyoto Seika had been bittersweet; you were nothing but elated for him to attend his dream school of course, but the nearly six hour drive had made it so he visited home less frequently than you would have liked. The Kaiba Corp. private jets certainly helped cut travel time, but he had often been busy with school and both you and Seto were swamped with work. 

After his graduation, he had secured himself an internship at a real estate photography company in Tokyo, and within three months had begun working for them full-time. He also did freelance fashion photography on the side, his portfolio steadily increasing both in size and quality as he dedicated himself to work much in the same way you and Seto had. Somehow he still found the time for a personal life, and unsurprisingly had become a well known socialite in the city. 

He came home for major holidays and, after moving to Tokyo, often made weekend trips to Domino to visit the two of you. Occasionally, he would stop into Kaiba Corp. to check on things, testing out new games and software and saying hello to the employees, but for the most part he was perfectly content with letting Seto handle actual business. His Vice President title became mainly for show, although he’d asked on a few occasions if he should give it up. Each time Seto said he may as well keep it, considering the fact that he held his own fair share of the company from stocks he’d received and bought over the years. Nobody really cared whether Mokuba did anything within the company and, in Seto’s words, “If they do they can take it up with me personally”. 

The one thing Mokuba was interested in continuing to be part of was Kaiba Land, both the parks in Domino and California. In fact, any approval requests, new ride schematics, building blueprints, even new snack ideas went to Mokuba before they even hit Seto’s desk. Your fiancé was entirely fine with it, it allowed him more time to focus on things more relevant to the company and its technology. As he saw it, building the two theme parks had been a realization of their childhood dream, and now that it was built he considered that dream fulfilled. Maintaining the parks, although something he wanted the company to continue doing and doing well, had become of little interest to him. His sights were set further into the future, so if Mokuba wanted to take charge of Kaiba Land, then all the better. 

Natalia retired from the mansion staff shortly after your engagement. She admitted to you that she’d been thinking of leaving for about a year leading up to the event, but wanted to stick around until he popped the big question. She said it felt like ‘seeing the story to its end’, although after she said it she quickly corrected herself, stating it was more like the end of a chapter than of a story. 

You, Seto, and Mokuba had all seen her off on her last evening. She cooked up her best steaks, whipped up her fluffiest potatoes, grilled up the freshest veggies, and treated you all to a three-course dessert that even Seto had eaten all of.

She cried when she hugged Mokuba good-bye, ruffling his head of wild black hair he still hadn’t cut. She said one of her life’s greatest blessings was watching him grow into a fine adult, and with that Mokuba cried too. She moved on to you, kissing you motheringly on the forehead, and expressing that although you hadn’t lived in the mansion quite as long as the two boys, you had become an equally big part of her life. She said you should be in charge of picking the mansion’s next cook, as it was traditionally the lady of the house’s decision. She herself had been selected by Gozaburo Kaiba’s late wife, a woman you did not often hear mention of, but Natalia had a fond glint in her eyes you couldn’t help but smile at. 

Upon reaching Seto, she encircled him in a hug so surprisingly tight even he let out a startled ‘oof’. He returned the hug, albeit much more gently, and a barely visible smile graced his face. Natalia insisted that if she was still alive she would return to cater the wedding. When asked why she planned on dying so soon, she gave a warm laugh and replied, “Well if you take as long as you did to propose to the poor girl, I might already be turned to dust.”

Isono had come to collect the last of her things, and after loading them into the car he too gave her a long hug and exchanged a few words. It was nice to see him smiling, see both of them smiling, even if over such a bittersweet moment. When the heavy mansion doors shut behind her, you and the Kaiba brothers were left in the bright foyer, glancing around wordlessly. The mansion seemed significantly emptier without Natalia, especially in the evening when all the other staff had gone home. 

You had decided on waiting about a week before starting the search for a new chef, and it took you almost a month after that to finally pick someone. Between then, you’d somehow managed to fit cooking into your already packed schedule. You hadn’t remembered your food tasting so bland, but you supposed compared to a master chef, you couldn’t really compete. You’d convinced Seto to spend time in the kitchen with you on one evening during that brief period, and finally discovered something he wasn’t perfect at. Actually, you’d discovered something he was absolute shit at. It had been hilarious to find that the man couldn’t cook to save his life. His baking skills were fine, he could read a piece of paper and make precise measurements, so the few things he’d put in the oven had turned out decent, but when let anywhere near the stove his natural talents did him no good. After your fits of laughter, along with seeing what he managed to scrape out of a burnt pan, you both decided cooking was not for him. 

It was something you held over his head even to this day. 

The rest of the household staff remained the same. You were convinced Noel would be working at the Kaiba mansion until the day she died, and the same could be said for the landscapers, who continued to find new ways to make the outside of the mansion an unmatched extravagance. 

Your fiancé didn’t get much more busy, he had always had more work to do than you thought humanly possible even when you first started dating. Rather, he had been forced to take more frequent business trips, which meant he was out of the mansion for days at a time. Mainly, he’d been checking in on Duel Academy. The year prior, professors teaching at the academy had gone through rigorous exams, a number of test duels, and finally had to be approved by Seto himself. 

Chi, your former co-worker at the boutique you had worked in during college, had been both disappointed that she hadn’t been selected to be a professor, and delighted to be picked as a teacher’s assistant. Apparently, a certain professor Kabayama had taken a liking to her dueling style and had asked Seto for her employment. She had texted you non-stop about her new job for days, before practically dropping off the face of the planet. Presumably to prepare lesson plans and… whatever else she would be teaching at what you were still convinced was a terrible idea for a school. 

It was the Academy’s first year, students transferring in as second and third years already finished with placement tests and classes officially beginning in the week to come. After that, Seto anticipated he would become much less busy, although you were sure he would just find a new project to occupy his time with. The man couldn’t stand sitting idle for more than five minutes at a time, much less not having work to focus himself on. He was already dead set on beginning a new energy project at Kaiba Corp., by which you meant, he was practically trying to create an entirely new form of energy. When he said his sights were set on the future, he really meant it, considering he hypothesized the project would take at the very least twenty years to even begin real work on. 

Your own work had quickly eclipsed almost everything else in your life. Itsuki remained your apprentice at your studio, far surpassing all your expectations to the point that you even let him work on large, custom projects. You'd hired a second employee to take care of day-to-day operations at the studio at Seto's suggestion, a young woman named Hina who had the same burning passion for formal wear that you did. She had just started college at Domino University, and though she was mainly performing secretary work for the shop, she was hovering around either you or Itsuki and taking notes whenever she had the time. After she graduated and had more experience, you were confident she would make an excellent tailor. 

Your wedding was put on the backburner by you and your fiancé, both so focused on your own businesses that when you found time to spend with each other the last thing you wanted to talk about was wedding planning. You both got about as far as deciding the wedding would be in America (because you had more friends and family than he did, and it would be easier to just bring everyone from Domino on one big flight) and in the Spring. Beyond that, including what date, month, or even year the event would take place, was anyone’s guess. Recently, Ryuuji had been insisting the two of you just hire a wedding planner to take care of everything for you, but the thought of Domino City’s biggest control freak letting anyone, other than his fiancée, plan his wedding was laughable.

Ryuuji’s life remained relatively the same, earning more than enough money from his game shop to continue living his happily upper class lifestyle. He was perfectly content with remaining a bachelor, having told you on more than one occasion (usually after a messy breakup) that the thought of being tied-down felt so stifling and unappealing. His company recovered slowly after the entire debacle with Schroeder Corp., never quite returning to its former glory, especially with the declining popularity of Dungeon Dice Monsters. But, after branching into publishing for physical board games, he held his own in the corporate world. 

The Schroeder Corporation on the other hand all but faded into obscurity. After Zigfried’s suicide, his younger brother negotiated with Seto that the contract for the company’s purchase be dropped. Seto didn’t put up any fight, although he never said anything concrete you and Mokuba both knew he only cared about sending a message. The contract was no more, Leon took over in his brother’s place, and with little business experience or knowledge was quickly taken advantage of. The company went through three different CEOs in as many years before declaring bankruptcy.

During the short time he was president, Leon had sent you a letter apologizing for any harm the corporation might have caused you, and asking if he could talk to you. It had sounded sincere, like he had written it, at the very least, rather than had a secretary type it out. If you were being honest, you hadn’t really cared much about the letter at the time. The break-in had still been fresh in your mind, the faint scar on your cheek not completely faded, and nightmares still haunting your dreams. Your therapist had suggested reaching out to him, if for no other reason than to gain some closure, but you never really got around to it. Or, perhaps, you had just never worked up the courage. The letter sat in your bedside table for a long, long time, until about a month ago in fact. You’d forgotten it was even there, and upon finding it again two and a half years later, decided you no longer needed whatever closure it might offer. The two still living men who had broken into the mansion were already in prison, and would continue to be for the next seventeen years. You still had the occasional nightmare related to the incident, but they were infrequent and a lot less terrifying than they had been before. You’d decided you no longer needed therapy some months ago, and your life had basically already returned to normal. So, the letter had gone in the garbage.

Ciri and Dandelion both continued to enjoy their time at the mansion, though over the years they both spent less and less time running about, and more and more time sleeping on the furniture. Dandelion’s favorites had become your shared kingsize bed and the armchair in the East library. Ciri had taken to covering Mokuba’s bed in her fur or otherwise, for some strange reason, preferred sleeping in the bathtub.

In the years that had passed many things changed in your life, and they would continue to change as all things do. As you were growing older your interested shifted, your hobbies began to change, you grew closer to some friends and distant to others. In a world of infinite variables, however, there were a number of constants you could always rely on: The seasons passed, as they always did; in autumn the leaves fell from the trees, in spring flowers bloomed with new life. The sun rose in the East and set in the West. Time continued to flow, despite how there were times you thought you’d never make it through something, todays always turned to tomorrows and you pushed forward. 

And through it all Seto Kaiba remained the most important, most wonderful, and most insufferable thing in your life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _In loving memory of my good sweet boy Pants, aka the inspiration for Dandelion, who did not get to see this fic through to completion but will live on in the world of this series._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Wowie zowie I actually finished a story that's crazy. 
> 
> If you haven't already, and you enjoyed this series, feel free to check out my other work. It's all Kaiba, because I have basically 0 interest in writing about anyone else. (Except maybe Byakuya Togami someday but let's be completely honest here they're practically the exact same character.)
> 
> If you're looking for other Kaiba x reader fics, and need some suggestions, here's a list of some of my favorite. A few of which inspired me to write this series in the first place: 
> 
> [forlornTimekeeper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forlornTimekeeper/)'s complete series [Yourself or Someone Like You](https://archiveofourown.org/series/256387) which was the first complete Kaiba x reader fic I had read, and actually inspired me to start writing this series. 
> 
> [DragonSilk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonSilk/pseuds/DragonSilk)'s [The Art of Living](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6271687/chapters/14370445) which, although incomplete, is still a fic I go back to frequently to re-read, and is in fact the very first Kaiba x reader fic I ever read. I got back into both reading and writing fanfiction, which I hadn't done in well over ten years prior to reading this. While you're at it, check out their other stuff as well; plenty of Kaiba fics to keep you hooked.
> 
> [Lunar Twilight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarTwilight/pseuds/LunarTwilight)'s [Black Magic and White Rum](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5160872/chapters/11885081) if you're into well-written sex scenes, a wonderfully thrilling plot, and a Yami Bakura who calls himself your daddy. It's a fic that I return to ALL THE TIME when I'm writing sex scenes, and that I am patiently awaiting an update from. Even incomplete (as of the time I'm writing this) there's still _plenty_ of content for you to read. 
> 
> [Wanderlust3988](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wanderlust3988/pseuds/Wanderlust3988)'s series [To The Left Of Elysian](https://archiveofourown.org/series/817413) the complete series which has so _many dang words_ it should keep you busy for a good chunk of the near future. I'm not kidding, the first fic of the series alone has more words than both Pardon my French and Beg to Differ combined. Beautifully written, with lots of fluff and angst and smut and general Kaiba goodness. 
> 
> And, finally, [Aki_The_Shiftless](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aki_The_Shiftless)' [Midnight Coffee](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8063224/chapters/18475453), a complete fic in which you take on the role of a great big smartypants who just wants Kaiba to stop drinking so much heckin' coffee. (Also PS I'm so glad every single Kaiba fic writer has universally agreed Kaiba consumes more coffee than is humanly possible even though he never once drinks coffee in the anime, bless). 
> 
> This is not a complete list of all the Kaiba x reader fics I like, nor does it include any fics outside of AO3, but it should be a good starting point for you. There's tons of Kaiba x reader fics out there, so search away and join me in my crippling Kaiba addiction. And, if you're feeling inspired or so inclined, try your hand at writing a Kaiba x reader fic of your own. I am constantly refreshing the tag on this site, so if you write one, I will read it. 
> 
> Please.
> 
> I _need_ more.
> 
> Thank you to all of you who stuck around through the entirety of this crazy adventure of mine. This has been my first fanfiction since _middle school_ yuck. My writing has certainly improved over the course of this series, even going back to some of the very first chapters of Pardon my French I find myself wanting to re-write half of them sometimes. But, such is the blight of the artist! Instead, I'll just have to put all my creative juices into other fics. Ghost still needs to be finished, and new works still need to be started. So many ideas so little time. But I digress! Thanks again y'all! Please feel free to leave your comments, critiques, and anything else you'd like to say about this series, down below. 
> 
> And with that, dear readers, I bid you adieu.


End file.
